


Misanthrope

by DaniLastName (orphan_account)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Aggression, Blow Jobs, Dominance, F/M, Masturbation, Medical Horror, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smut, Some angst, Spoilers, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DaniLastName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The New World was built on a rusted skeleton and seemed to weep radiation into every dead crevice at the loss of humanity. </p><p>Nora takes the long, wrong road to Diamond City.<br/>Slow burn Hancock/F!SS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Four Caps

"Shaun isn't going to be one year old forever."  
"I know, but we've been b-"  
"I'd think the least we deserved is a family photo. I know your father's recovered but that doesn't mean we aren't getting on in age."  
"Christ, Mom," Nora grumbled as her mother carried on.  
"And that's just it! You haven't had him baptised, you haven't looked into a single daycare; it's like you don't want to raise him!" Nora frowned and lay the phone down onto its receiver, silencing her mother. Behind her, the oven clicked as it heated.  
"Who was it, honey?" Nate called from the bathroom. The faucets squeaked as he shut them off, the sound of a wet towel hitting his face.  
"My mom," she answered distantly.  
"Oh, Madame Farley! I do hope she visits again soon. She does so love when I clean," Codsworth chimed.  
"She loves to tell me why you don't have a woman's touch," she argued.  
"Was it about the portrait again?" Nate asked.  
"Yeah, she wants one of those mall pictures with Shaun in that ugly sweater."  
"I thought you liked turquoise," Nate offered as Nora stepped behind him into the bathroom. She'd done her makeup halfway before the phone rang, and she looked tired.  
"Not with rust orange." She shook her head and unscrewed the mascara. "This is the first night you've been home in weeks and I'm not wasting it standing in a mall looking like a colorblind tourist."  
Nate paused, watching her softly. He got quiet when she was angry and it only made her angrier. He couldn't be scared of her - he was a soldier. Yet, he seemed to cower when she took a break from being his perky arm candy.

She was just moody.

Nora sighed and set the mascara brush down. She'd have to start over - aggressive stroked left her eyelashes clumped like spider legs. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You know how she is. She said I don't care about Shaun."  
"Oh, honey." Nate wrapped his arms around her and she felt him smile against her hair. "Anyone can tell you love him more than anything in the world."

-

"Hey, Miss?"  
Nora's eyes were heavy as she lolled her head toward the voice. She squinted to she the person.  
"Hey, you need a knife polished? I'll do it for two caps." It was a kid. Some squirrely thing with greasy hair and dirty fingers.  
"I'm fuckin' busy," she grumbled, feeling her limbs begin to tingle as she woke fully. She'd fallen asleep at the bar in Bunker Hill again, her right arm beneath her head as a cushion, her left hanging loose at her side. She'd recently been smashed in her left forearm by a 10mm butt, but it wasn't bad enough to waste caps fixing. It'd bruised, but she'd live.  
"Hey, c'mon, lady! It's two caps!" The kid threw his arms against his sides in a tantrum.  
Nora felt rage crash in her head like waves; she leaned over, nose-to-nose with the kid. "And I have four, so _fuck off_."  
"Fuck you, lady!" The kid turned and ran, and Nora felt the eyes of concerned adults on her. She turned back to the bar and stared narrowly at the beer she'd been gripping when she passed out.  
She lifted her left arm gingerly onto the bar to examine it. The bruise had welled up midway down the ulna, the thinner and more sensitive side. She grimaced as the chill of the metal counter against the swollen skin froze her nerves.  
Nora closed her eyes for a moment before gathering the courage to look upwards. She stared at the white fluffs pulled into gossamer strands across the sky; at the cerulean hue fading into a muted blue on the horizon. She felt sick as she stared. It was the one thing that made her feel real - it was the only thing that preserved itself with her. When she emerged, the sky was the only thing she recognized.

The road out was dusty and cracked, the river following it like the seepage of an opened wound. The New World was built on a rusted skeleton and seemed to weep radiation into every dead crevice at the loss of humanity. The few humans who roamed it were either monsters or unfit to survive. Apparently, fate had left her the resources to care for those without hope in the wastes - she'd taken to the role without question, though she'd wondered why it had to be her. She had personal priorities that paled in the face of the settlers' problems - brutal raids ending in pooled blood and unwanted pregnancies, "Super Mutants" skinning and flaying live victims into a meaty heap, and the simple yet debilitating burn of UV rays on unprotected skin.  
She'd helped rebuild a house in Sanctuary Hills, and filled it with sleeping bags and foodstuffs, before heading out hastily. She wanted to see Diamond City.

-

When she first saw what Super Mutants did to people, she'd thrown up. She'd kept heaving until she left the room. Its mere stench was an abomination.  
This time, she'd seen eyes in the pile - fingers that had once clenched onto their mother's, arms that had been memorized by their owners, feet that had stomped the pavement of the Old World in new colors. It made her think of Nate again, and how carelessly his smoothed hair, fragile flesh she once caressed, and beautiful mind that made him her husband had been ravaged by the trash who had broken into the Vault.  
It took her time to come back to reality. It was only when Dogmeat shoved his muzzle against her chest, his blood-caked fur hard against her hands, that she realized she was breathing too fast and hard. "Sorry, boy," she'd uttered finally, before she grabbed the dog's collar and walked him out of the building.  
The building she'd stumbled into was a tower, looming over the downtown area like a listless titan. She was trying still to find Diamond City, but the directions she paid for meant nothing as she'd heard them in a drunken haze. She thought they told her to look for signs.  
In the distance, something pink glowed soft against peeling paint and crumbling bricks. A sign.  
She began to run towards it, ducking down at the corner of the tower to listen for movement. She bolted across the open area and came to a trisection; to the right was the bright neon sign reading GOODNEIGHBOR, and to the left, a throaty growl.  
Dogmeat leapt forward and Nora twisted towards the sound - feral dogs. The largest kept its eyes on her as Dogmeat ripped into another dog's throat. She felt for the heavy weight of her 10mm and pointed it at the animal. As the dog moved forward, Dogmeat sank his teeth into its bony hind leg, provoking a howl before the dog's head splayed from her shot.  
Nora backed away from the mess and turned to face the neon glow again. The colors were bright and forced her to squint as she stared - the sign reminded her of the Old World.  
Near an out-of-place door, a body lay on the ground, and Nora stooped over it greedily. She'd found little to trade during her time in Sanctuary Hills and Bunker Hill. There had been little in-between.  
She unlatched every piece of armor she could, and the arm and leg armor was torn from the limbs in haste. If anyone caught her, she would believe it her luck for that person to be the body's friend, girlfriend, or parent, and she was low on first-aid.  
Finally, Nora faced the red door. Walking through this unknown threshold could mean the end of her. But what did it matter? Without Nate and Shaun, she stayed up each night hyperventilating and sobbing her throat hoarse. The dog had grown disillusioned to her shrieks when she would be thrown violently from nightmares she couldn't remember.

-

Hancock was having a shit day. It was noon and the sun was living in the streets. He had hoped a cigarette in the alley by Kleo's would soothe him and this fucking headache from the heat, but all he could do was think about the stupid goddamn weather.  
The door to his town pushed open without warning, though slowly. Through it entered a woman with short brown hair, a bright blue Vault suit, and a black bandana tied around the bottom half of her face. Behind her a mutt pushed its nose against her legs, trying to see ahead of her.  
He saw Finn light a cigarette nearby. He always did. Finn figured newcomers would jump at the idea of a smoke and "be more susceptible," and he was more than willing to share his insight with Hancock too often.  
The girl's eyes darted to her sides, and narrowed on Finn when she seemed to realize there was no way past him. She began walking forward, eyes trained on Kleo's shop, trying her best to ignore the bald behemoth. "Hey! Hold up!" Finn shouted to her as she approached. His voice made Hancock shudder internally - it was thick with smoker's phlegm, alcohol, and cottonmouth, and probably left a dirty feeling in new girl's ears. "New to Goodneighbor? You can't go walking around without insurance." Hancock grimaced in disgust. Trash always found its way into his town. But the girl seemed different.  
She yanked the bandana from her face and took a long step forward towards Finn. "You listen to me, you slimy fuck: I'll feed you to my dog if you don't step the fuck back right now."  
"Now, don't be like that," Finn tried to coo, but the rumble of his sick voice made him sound desperate. "I think you'll like what I've got to offer. You hand over everything in them pockets or accidents start happening. Big, bloody accidents."  
Hancock stepped forward. He'd seen enough of Finn's antics to know that a number of potential citizens would rather turn and try somewhere else than bargain with a strung-out thug.  
"Woah, woah. Time out. Someone steps through the gate the first time, they're a guest. You lay off that extortion crap." 

 

The ugly brute had turned to face whoever intervened. The voice of their mediator was low and oddly soft, and Nora had to remind herself to keep her face straight when she finally saw the man. He looked like his skin should hurt, but Nora had come to understand that it probably didn't. She had learned her straight face from Nate's silly poker nights, when they and their few friends would see who could "stay cool" the longest. Jet made it fun.  
"What d'you care? She ain't one of us," Finn spat. Nora considered turning and leaving, but knew it would only let this lumbering fuck think he could continue.  
The _ghoul_ who had stepped out of seemingly nowhere, who wore clothing from the American Revolution, whose voice flowed like lava, responded, "No love for your mayor Finn?" His voice hit a higher intonation and Nora wondered if this was all a joke - some kind of ridiculous thing this settlement did to newcomers to fuck with them. His voice dropped low then, washing her doubts away; "I said let her go."  
Nora inhaled sharply as she began to retaliate - she didn't need "insurance" but she didn't need "protection." She just wanted some fucking booze and ammo. Before she could speak, however, Finn piped up. "You're soft, Hancock. If you keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day, there's gonna be a new mayor." Nora kept her cool, but felt a smile try to creep onto her face. By the sheer confidence of this ghoul alone, she knew Finn was a moron. _Was._  
A woman leaned against the shop Hancock had been near, and Nora realized the woman was watching Hancock with an intensity matching her own. _Every good man has a woman._  
_Hancock_ approached the other man slowly as he spoke. "C'mon man, this is _me_ we're talking about." He coolly turned and slid an arm over Finn's shoulder. "Lemme tell you somethin'..." As Hancock leaned in as though to whisper, he drew a blade from a pocket and stabbed deeply into Finn's abdomen twice. Nora watched intently as the point drove against the man's clothing and deeper, into yielding flesh and screeching nerves. She could only imagine the pain of being stabbed by surprise. She imagined Finn hadn't even realized he'd been stabbed until he was on the ground.  
A whimper left him and Nora approached, staring down hard at the dying man. She watched with an excitement similar to the approach of the apex of a roller coaster - she knew his death was coming and she was watching for it. In mere moments, life drained from his eyes, leaving them dull and inhuman. Slowly, she looked up to face the mayor. He was still staring at Finn. "Why'd you have to go and say that? Breakin' my heart over here." He looked up into Nora's eyes, and she felt herself shrink back mentally. Not because of his face - she'd seen worse on soldiers Nate befriended at the VFW - it was his presence. He seemed a story tall as he stood on the other side of the corpse. "Now I know you had ol' Finn handled there, but a mayor's gotta make a point sometimes. Y'alright?"  
Nora let a smile stretch her lips lightly. "I'm fine. Thanks for that."  
"Good. Now don't let this incident taint your view of our little community. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people. You feel me? Everyone's welcome."  
"My rights end where yours begin," she responded, nodding lightly.  
"Hey, I like that." Hancock smiled back, and an embarrassing glow of satisfaction shot through her at his approval. "Now you stay cool, and you'll be part of the neighborhood." He paused, smirking at her; "So long as you remember who's in charge."  
Her interest grew shameful as he walked away with the woman who'd been watching. He didn't touch her, but Nora didn't know "courtship rituals" in this world - maybe that was normal. She felt uncomfortable at how she'd reacted to his smile, but was proud that it had remained internal. They left through a door at the North end of the square, and suddenly Nora felt alone beside a corpse.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sweetheart, you know how your mother gets. Just ignore it and it'll go away." Nora's dad's voice was soft and reassuring over the phone. She loved calling him on Sunday afternoons - she liked to imagine he wrapped the phone cord around the corner so he could sit on the porch and watch the Philadelphia sunset. He was so far away, it hurt at times. She missed his flannel shirts and Sunday shorts and plans to barbeque that never made it past mentioning.  
When Nate had been at boot camp she'd called her father every night while curling into Nate's favorite shirt. It had still smelled of cologne, a mix of tree bark and sea shells.  
"I don't have any time until Nate gets back," she continued, despite his diffusing remarks. "I have the dinner when Nate comes home and then he has a weeklong Preparedness Camp out in DC. I don't know what she wants from me."  
Nora was sitting at the island in the kitchen, absently toying with a pen. _Click._  
"We just want a picture for the mantle, hun. Don't stress out about it. You know a stressed mommy is bad for the baby." He laughed, a rumble deep in his chest. He always meant well, even when Nora's mother had just set down the phone and left the room to make a point.  
"Hey, maybe," she paused, "maybe when Nate's home again we can have a barbeque." Her voice was soft now, almost shy in its hopefulness. _Click._  
He perked up. "Well, that sounds great! You know I still haven't really used the new GrillMaster. I mean, really _used_ it. I can try out that Cajun burger recipe!" He continued on about it while Nora half-smiled. _Click._

Shaun fussed awake in the far room. _Click._

-

The Hotel Rexford had a simple allure - they had beds. After weeks of sleeping bags and hitting her head on dirt when the pillow moved, nothing sounded better. She only had enough caps for a room and dinner for herself and Dogmeat.  
Alone, she was left to think. She thought about how far she'd fallen - she'd only recently passed the bar exam, and hadn't even seen a client yet. The Halloween Party was a celebration.Nate hadn't been home for twenty four hours before the bombs.  
She thought about the shirt she'd held at night while he was away - she hid it deep in the closet for some reason she couldn't remember anymore. It wasn't there when she went back.  
She thought of her and Nate's clothing, stolen from their home, worn on the backs of what could be ghouls, or fraying on the skeletons of the long dead in locked rooms.  
She thought of Hancock and his grin - the force he'd used against Finn, and the blackness of his eyes. She pulled herself from these thoughts quickly. _He has someone._  
She slammed her head down onto the pillow she paid two caps extra for, as though it would jar her thoughts away. She was too tired to think as she felt her body melt into the mattress - maybe she'd make it through the night without a nightmare.

Nora woke to a knock on her door. "Mayoral address. Everybody up and out." the voice was a man's, soft yet edged as though he were high. Lifting her legs from the bed,  she realized how achy the New World had made her. Her knee was swollen and hot, jutting out from her leg like shrapnel; her feet cracked as she stood on them, popping in a way that would have frightened her centuries ago; and her back bent awkwardly before popping as well.  
Dogmeat rose from where he lay on the splintering wooden floor. "You stay here, boy," she ordered, taking his muzzle into her hand and kissing his snout. He whined, but sat back down. 

Outside, the sun glittered and glared down like it had forever. The asphalt glowed with heat beneath her, and she felt the swelling in her knee all too much. Just yards from the door, a crowd was gathering. She heard Hancock, and squinted to see him in the shadow of the building, high up on a balcony.  
"Daisy! Glad you could make it!"  
She made her way closer, hoping to disappear in the crowd. She didn't need eyes on her. She stood behind a tall ghoul in a suit and beside a plainly-dressed drifter, eyeing the residents around her. They were almost all ghouls, save for a few smoothskinned drifters sprinkled in.  
She'd learned the terms from a journal, left forgotten on a holotape in a ruined home. The writer's name was Max, and, from his entries, seemed to have been turned into a ghoul back when she was being frozen. Back when the bombs fell.  
He'd described the process as painful, but bearable, though in a mostly emotional way. His eyes burned and his skin tingled , but it was the hardening and loss of random pieces of himself.  
She was especially interested in the ghouls and their stories - she wanted to know what it had been like living what she'd missed.  
Above her, Hancock's voice boomed, and the crowd replied, but she continued watching. She couldn't get a fix on the town and its culture - they functioned, yet seemed based on the honor system and the brute force of its guards to handle problems, but even then, the mayor himself felt it necessary to step in when trouble came. Politicians had never been so involved in her experience. Finally, she let herself look up at him, red coat - ratty yet bold - lifting in the wind. "And who's the mayor of Goodneighbor?"  
The small crowd roared back -  "Hancock!"  
She saw him grin in response and his eyes roamed the collective body of his citizens -  and Nora. He hovered his gaze on her for a moment before turning and disappearing.  
Nora bit her cheeks indecisively - she'd need to speak with him but he made her nervous. She hadn't felt nervousness since she'd met Nate, or when she'd taken that pregnancy test she'd hidden in her sleeve and never paid for, or when she'd felt an awful moment of silence after Shaun was born.  
Without work, however, she couldn't afford another night on a mattress or meat for the dog.

-

She had been just downstairs from the Mayor's office for at least ten minutes, pretending to be interested in the ruined Old World artifacts that, in her day, had been minor fixtures found at the Super Duper Mart. She couldn't bring herself to climb the stairs yet - every step she took felt like a lance to the knee. She could imagine Hancock going to leave the Old State House only to find her loitering.  
The thought brought her to the stairwell and she grit her teeth as she hoisted her leg up, pushed off, and felt the pressure in her knee heighten. It felt like her bones floated in the blood of the swelling. Feeling the eyes of the guards on her, Nora clamped her jaw tight and forced her limbs to work.  
Upon reaching the top, she found both relief that she'd made it and frustration towards the future return trip. She heard Hancock's voice in the room to the left, the doors to which hung open and welcoming. 

-

"Well, without Finn, we have an empty spanging position." Fahrenheit grumbled, leaning back against the wall.  
Hancock muttered a reply against the filter of his cigarette. In the hallway, he heard a guard speaking; "Hey'a, toots-"  
"Fuck off, I ain't in the mood." The voice replying was that Vault girl. He'd asked Daisy to mention visiting him if the girl came by. He let a corner of his mouth pull up in a lazy smirk. Girl had shit to do.  
When she'd finally made her way in, Hancock stood immediately. "Well, hello. Glad you came by. Our first introduction was kind of fucked up."  
As he approached her, she stood in the doorway, her legs apart and arms at her sides -  unmistakably prepared for something. "I'm Nora."  
"Hancock," he replied, holding a hand out. She gripped it firmly, meeting his eyes with hers. "So, what brings you to my slice of paradise?"  
Breaking their hold, she brought a hand to her face, frustrated. "I was trying to get to Diamond City to find a detective. Some dick at Bunker Hill told me to follow the highway and the river and I ended up here." Hancock laughed lowly.  
"I think you got the wrong highway and river." She looked away, glancing at Fahrenheit against the far wall, before staring back at him.  
"Either way, from your speech, I gather it's a shithole anyway."  
"A'right, so you caught my speech, huh? Pretty basic shit, here, but I think my people like it." He pulled a charming smile on her, testing her limits. He didn't think she'd make it this far into Goodneighbor, let alone the conversation. Vaulties tended to tuck their tails up their asses and run home at the sight of a ghoul - or extortion, stabbing, and chems - but the girl held his gaze.  
Her expression rested into defeat, and he cocked his head back. "Why're you out looking for Valentine, anyway? Got a loose Blue Smoothskin running around? 'Cause I might have bad news."  
"No, I'm looking for the guy who killed my husband."  
"Oof." The lame response had escaped him in surprise. "That's some heavy stuff, doll." His tone softened a bit and he moved to the side, motioning for her to sit on a couch. "Why don't you sit down for a sec? You look like the shittin' end of a Brahmin."  
She looked relieved for a moment, before masking it again, and walked stiffly towards the seat, nearly falling into it. Fahrenheit snorted and lifted herself from the wall.  
"Guess some people should stay home," she added unkindly.  
Nora's head snapped up towards the other woman. "I don't have a fucking home."  
"You Blues are always sayin' that dramatic shit. I ain'ever heard of 'one eleven.' What, you ride too far from your bed?"  
"Hey," Hancock growled pointedly. "Do I need to make a fuckin' speech about how we treat guests here, Fahr?"  
"Whatever." Fahrenheit looked away, at a far wall, before taking a step toward the door.  
"Should I leave?" Nora shifted uncomfortably and grimaced in pain. "I'm not here to eat your shit."  
Fahrenheit ignored her and continued moving, slamming the door to the State House dramatically. Finally, Hancock dropped himself into the couch opposite the new girl. "Sorry 'bout her. You know how Raiders are." He'd hoped she'd find humor in it, but she was quiet. For a moment, it was awkward as Nora lay back against the couch, staring elsewhere. "You need something to relax, sister? I got you covered."  
Her eyes moved hesitantly to the table between them as he began rifling through the assortment of chems. "Got some Jet?" He handed an inhaler to her and grabbed one for himself. "Tried and true," she murmured, almost inaudible.  
He watched as she touched her lips to the plastic and gripped the inhaler, blasting her throat with the chemical release. She let her arms drop to her sides gently, and laid her head against the back of the couch, staring upward. Hancock copied her, triggering the release as he inhaled, melting back into the feeling of sparklers in his head and numbness in his skin. "Hell yeah."  
She sat up after a moment, pupils wide, though mouth taut in a buzz-killing seriousness. "Look, man," she said, an involuntary smile pulling her lips tight, white teeth glowing, "I need caps bad, and I don't know where I am. You got work?"  
Hancock spread his arms across the back of the sofa, head leaning near to lying on his bicep. "I do, but I need to know you can handle yourself before I expect anything outta ya', you feel me?" She nodded, glancing at the coffee table, sitting forward with her elbows on her knees. "I can't go countin' on a dead scout." She smiled again.  
"Yeah, I feel you. But I need something before I starve."  
"You hungry?" Hancock leaned forward, watching his hand to see if she reacted to it, as he grabbed for another smoke. She didn't flinch, at least.  
"Well, yeah, but I also have a dog to feed." Suddenly, her voice had gone soft and she brought both hands up to cover her face, exhaling heavily. "Can't ever do enough."  
The statement seemed unnatural to their conversation, and he assumed she had a lot on her mind. "Well, we can talk over some lunch. Wherever your dog is, you can take him the scraps - how's that sound?"  
She seemed weird, if he was honest. She didn't act like a Blue, but she had the skin, the teeth, and the face like one. She seemed preoccupied and unhappy, even with the Jet in her head and nerves. Finally, she slapped her hands down onto her thighs, looking away again, making a face like she'd shoved something heavy into the back of her mind. "That sounds fuckin' great. You sure, though? Not a lot of food out here."  
"I wouldn't remind me of that, doll." He rose from the couch and shoved his hand into the cooler full of food the good people of Goodneighbor (at least Daisy) had shared, pulling out a long, flimsy box of Sugar Bombs. "You up for sweets?"  
"Anything," she assured him, her voice still stiff and distant.  
He turned back to the sofas with the box torn open, sitting himself to face her again. "So, again, why are you in Goodneighbor? Most people take the risk of heading out to Diamond City again rather than spend a night here. You meet Claire? She's more than our tourists can handle and she's the customer service rep." He shoved his hand into the cereal bag and popped the sticky shapes into his mouth.  
"I don't have anywhere to go. I've only been here a week." She followed suit, pulling a fistful of sugar from the crinkling plastic. "The dog is the only one I've met that hasn't tried to kill me. Besides you, I guess."  
He chuckled, dropping more cereal onto his tongue. He was making something of a display, acting a bit like a cock, in an effort to read her. He needed to know if she would one day be a more permanent resident, or if she'd turn and run the moment she had enough of his black eyes and melted flesh. "You guess, huh? I figured the Sugar Bombs woulda thrown you off my trail."  
She gave a small smile, making eye contact again. Her pupils were normal again - like he figured, she let something kill her high. "I just need some way of getting myself stable, you know? I don't know this world."  
"Bit different than safe metal walls, eh?" He smirked smugly, hopeful it would break her, though only so he would finally be sure.  
"I don't know. I'm not," she hesitated, "from here. I was in a Vault, but it was a long time ago, and they had us cryogenically frozen. I'm the, uh, only one left." Her voice trailed off hauntedly.  
"Sister, I may be high but I ain't that gone. You-"  
"Yeah," she interrupted, glaring hard at him and leaning towards him, head over the table, "I'm serious and I don't fuckin' feel like debating it."  
Hancock smiled - she had a fire he liked. She didn't want to fuck around. "Well, you've got to prove it, if you really are. You sure don't sound like those girls in the songs, and you don't look like the old ads." He lifted his foot onto the edge of the coffee table. "So prove it." She flattened herself against the back of the couch, turning her head away and crossing her arms. He was getting her steamed. "Unless, you can't, of course. You sure you aren't just a Vaultie tryin'a prove somethin' to someone?"  
She snapped her head forward and smiled like a Viper. "I think I should go."  
"Aw, c'mon - understand me, here. We see lots of Blues head through here talkin' about 'seeing the world' and 'helping people,' but all that candor gets them cut up and forgotten. I don't want to see that happen anymore, especially to someone who seems to have some potential, like you."  
She sighed, unfolding her arms. Weakly, she replied, "Just 'some' potential?" He relaxed and laughed lightly. "Fine, I'll prove it. But I don't know how I can."  
"I know." Hancock stood, holding his hand out to help her up.  "You can talk to Daisy. If she confirms it, we'll be golden. Unless-" she refused his hand and stood herself up, her right knee wobbling, "you want to remember some extra details?"  
"Not one," she replied pointedly, turning and half-dragging her bad leg with her. She had tenacity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's difficult to write on your phone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot shorter than I wanted, but I wanted to post this before work. Comments and critiques encouraged!

Apparently, Daisy was a merchant in Goodneighbor. She hadn't had a moment to trade in the twelve hours she'd been in the town, and had to follow Hancock there. She reminded herself that Dogmeat was in the hotel room alone, and she couldn't spend much time proving to Hancock the legitimacy of her life.  
"Heya Daisy!" Hancock greeted cheerfully as they passed through the empty threshold of her shop.  
"Hey, there Mr. Mayor," the other ghoul rasped. "Is this the fresh meat I've been hearing so much about?"  
Nora was concerned by the notion of gossip - particularly when she hadn't even been there a day. "That she is," he answered, turning to give Daisy a view of Nora as she stood behind him. "And we have a little issue. She says she's from pre-war times. Got frozen-" Daisy began laughing loudly, inviting the eyes of loiterers, and Hancock spoke up, "underground in a Vault. I was hoping you could confirm it for me. As a favor." He leaned his elbow on her counter and gave Daisy a sly grin, facing Nora. Suddenly, she felt cornered in the small shop. Everyone was against her, laughing or staring, waiting to see her humiliated. She ran down the list of popular celebrities and politicians she could remember.  
Daisy finally contained herself enough to speak. "Pre-war, eh? Then tell me what it was like."  
Nora inhaled and stood straight. "I moved to Boston with my husband from Philadelphia. He was in the army and they wanted us here. I had a son named Shaun and we lived in Sanctuary Hills to the North somewhere. I became a lawyer and had just passed my bar exam." Nora paused, noting the stern faces of her small audience. "There were schools and cars and airplanes, and the downtown area was always packed with tourists. I've never been to the State House before, just because we could never find time. My husband-" she felt a knot in her throat, add though her memory reached out to choke her "-he had just come back from boot camp when the bombs fell."  
"Okay, that's enough," Daisy cooed, darting from behind the counter to wrap her arms around Nora's shoulders. Nora shut her eyes tight. 

-

Hancock lifted himself from the counter and stood uncomfortably by as the women embraced. He felt like a bastard. Nora shook a bit in Daisy's hold, and he stepped forward. "Hey, look, doll, I'm sorry. I hear a lot of stories from a lot of people, and they rarely turn out right. I just, you know," he paused as Daisy stepped back, letting him face Nora. She opened her eyes - they were puffy, but she didn't cry, "I don't like seeing pretty girls get themselves hurt just to look good."  
Nora was quiet for a moment. She seemed to pause a lot. "So can I have a job?" Her voice was cold and solid.  
"Hancock, you can't make her work already. Either she's the best damn storyteller here or she's been through more than most of us can understand. She can stay here."  
"I have a dog," Nora added sullenly.  
"And I have room," Daisy replied, smiling softly at the girl.  
"No." The women looked hard at Hancock as he interjected. "I have a room in the State House. I was an ass, and I owe you for it. And, Daisy, you barely have enough room to stretch your legs." He watched the girl carefully, hoping she'd agree. He needed a woman like that in his town - strong-willed and stone-faced. Despite the tragic story, Hancock couldn't help but think of her smiling back in his office. He wanted to invite her up for drinks and food and chems, but he feared he'd truly fucked up by making her relive her shitshow.  
Nora nodded slightly, looking up him. She seemed to force herself to speak; "Thanks."


	4. Chapter 4

Nora was a mess when she finally turned the pregnancy test to face her. She and Nate had only been on their fifth date, and she was pregnant. She'd been so careful, all her life, to make sure she was ready when this was _planned_. But there it was - a pair of thick blue stripes, her flag of failure.  
She had to call Nate. He would have to find a way to work more - he was a gas station attendant while he attended college, and barely pulled in about $6,000 per month. Enough for the pregnancy test in her shaking hand and one dozen cheap coffees. Nora was only a junior in college - she hadn't even held a job, yet. She made a choked sound as she began to tremble. This was the end of her plans, of her still-fresh freedoms. 

-

Dogmeat was wary of the State House, gingerly pressing his snout against the furniture as he eyed Hancock. The mayor was sitting on his favorite couch, staring a hole into the wall. Nora stood by the window, arms crossed, watching passersby as the room grew heavier with tension.  
She didn't turn, but spoke to Hancock softly; "I understand why you were skeptical. Don't hang on it. I don't care."  
She heard the crinkle of the cushions as he shifted. "I gotta be honest, doll, I thought you were gonna bolt when we got near the exit. Ain'ever heard a story like that."  
"Yeah," she responded lamely, turning from the window. Dogmeat was circling the room, tail low and ears alert. The tension annoyed her, and she wanted it gone. There was too much risk of losing precious time, and she wouldn't waste it holding grudges. "So what do you do here? It seems quiet." He didn't answer for a moment, so she pressed on. "Kind of boring, isn't it?"  
"Life is never dull here." His voice picked up and she hoped it meant he wanted to move on, as well. "We got good chems, good times, and good people." He was smiling again - at least his confident smirk - and Nora took her chance to get back to normal.  
"Good times?" She offered a smile at him, and he nodded.  
"Hell yeah - I'll give you the grand tour!"

He walked with her around the small settlement, pointing out his favorite and least favorite people under his breath. "Jay you gotta watch out for - thinks he can handle his booze but he tends to get grope-y pretty quick."  
She nodded thoughtfully, regarding the drifters and guards carefully, trying to memorize Hancock's warnings. Eventually, they rounded back to the front, where Daisy smiled warmly at her from her shop. Nora reciprocated politely, catching Hancock's eye.  
"So, do you still plan on heading to Diamond City?" Before she could answer, he added, "Maybe we could find someone to help you here. I noticed you've been limping since this morning."  
"It's just some swelling," she offered, looking around them as she bent down to squeeze her knee. "But," she stopped, staring at the ground as she massaged her aching joint.  
Hancock waited, watching her. "But?"  
"Could a breastfeeding infant from two centuries ago survive being carried through here?" She had thought it, but hadn't dared say it before. The idea of her son tasting another woman's - possibly even his kidnapper's - milk, or fed expired synthetic powder made her gag in horror. It enraged her in the most primal way, provoking feelings of both hatred and heartache as well as desperate powerlessness. She'd began wondering if the search was futile, but, regardless of Hancock's response, she knew she would continue.  
"I, uh, I don't know," he answered quietly. "But you're proof of crazier shit."  
She smiled, straightening herself. "This place got a bar?"  
Hancock seemed relieved, and Nora felt the knot in her stomach slack. He grinned at her pridefully. "Saved the best stop for last, sunshine." 

-

Out in the country, there was a hippie compound she'd heard about in class. Nora imagined herself in a flowing dress, beneath the summer sun, pulling weeds and smoking herbs with soft-spoken hounds and sweet-hearted girls. The daydream gave her respite from the current situation.  
She shifted in her seat beside Nate, who rubbed her hand reassuringly. She didn't want any of this, and her helplessness shook her.  
"It'll be fine," he told her. His voice was calming, like melted chocolate, water over ice. "I'll only be gone for a year - max. Then I'll be back to help with-" he trailed off and glanced at her stomach, still flat, "- _our baby_." Nora felt sick.  
The army recruiter reentered the small office and took a seat behind his desk. He sipped his coffee, ignoring the young couple as he rifled through the papers littering his workspace. "Well," he grumbled, "Obviously, we're taking anyone who asks. You'll be attending training sessions every six months to build you up to Field Power Armor, but it'll take near a year and a half. Until then, you'll be sent to Korea. There, you'll be trained in the Northern terrain. Just hope we make it that long."

-

"Mayor Hancock," the ghoul guarding the door to the Third Rail greeted, tipping his head in a respectful nod.  
"How's it going, Ham?" Hancock replied, slapping the other ghoul's shoulder cheerfully. "This is Nora - our newest arrival."  
"Yeah? Well, Charlie serves the drinks; I deal with the drunks," Ham told her, voice parched of enthusiasm.  
"Huh," she murmured, nodding. Looking around, she added, "Sounds like a fun place."  
Hancock motioned for her to follow him down the stairs, past security grates and uncharacteristically gleeful strung lighting. The emerged into an old subway stop, skillfully renovated into a dim, comfortable dive bar. A Mr. Handy twirled its sensors toward the new customers and it spoke in a heavy Cockney accent; "Oi, good af'ernoon Mayor. The regula'?"  
Hancock seemed to swagger as he approached the bar, surrounded in greetings and invitations for company. Nora followed, hands in fists at her side, anxious to get a drink. She wondered momentarily if Hancock had considered how her drinks would be paid for, but pushed it from her mind - she wouldn't mind taking a bullet for a good buzz.  
"Yeah, thanks Charlie." Hancock grabbed a Gwinett from the robot's clamp as he strode away, towards a congregation of his citizens. "And whatever the lady wants, alright?"  
"Aw'ight, what's it you want?" Charlie directed to Nora, who took a seat at the counter.  
"Anything over 60%."

Hancock dropped down into a sofa near a few regulars, his Gwinette Lager's heavy scent wafted upwards, sparking in his senses. He shot the shit with Angie, listened to and praised John's story about taking out a Raider, and coldly shot down Katrina and her advances. He knew she had the Rot and he didn't need it cock blocking his future hookups.  
He took a swig, tipping his head back to search the bar for Nora. He realized he'd been there at least half an hour, and wondered if she stuck around. He felt a pang of guilt when he spotted her sat at the bar, elbows on the counter, chugging something quietly. "Hey, I got places to be," he told the group, raising and heading toward his guest. "Don't feel like meeting anyone, sister?"  
"Not really," she murmured, the edge in her voice gone. "Jus' thinkin'." She didn't slur, just lost letters.  
"Isn't that why we came here? To not think?" He smiled and grabbed her arm, pulling her from the seat. "C'mon. Daisy would gimme an earful if she knew I let you drown yourself. We'll get somethin' to eat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a slow start, but it'll be worth it!


	5. Wanderer

Nora had missed smoking. Tendrils of smoke floated from the filter of her cigarette to caper onto her tongue and disperse against her teeth. She inhaled cold air and the smoke disappeared, blown back out in a billow towards the window. A sweet lightness settled in her head as the nicotine set in.  
She sat in a plastic green chair,  scraping on the wooden floor which splintered off at the ends where the house's back wall once was. Nora had found a teddy bear and a lunchbox at the dining room table, settled pleasantly in the otherwise desolate kitchen. More than anything, she hated thinking about the kids.  
She seemed to come across the shit regularly - a half-filled Halloween pail in an empty car with its doors wide open or a sheet of paper covered in illegible math problems in a classroom with no walls. She would imagine their mothers shielding their eyes from the bursting clouds, clinging to the last thread of innocence before their consciousness melted with their flesh and possessions.  
Nora clamped her jaw as she willed herself to move on, stabbing the smoldering filter into the peeling painted windowsill. She'd been away from Goodneighbor for near a week, having packed her shit and disappeared after an especially difficult night of Hancock's off-handed remarks. 

-

"Hey, doll," Hancock greeted, sliding onto the couch, beside her, "I scored some PsychoJet from a guy from Diamond City. Whaddya say?"  
He'd held the syringe out to her, offering her the red. She took the gesture personally - a druggie never gives out first hits to a new friend without strings attached. "Sounds fun," she answered, grabbing the chem and examining it. "Was it made by someone legit or is this some shit he threw together?"  
"Seems good," Hancock said.  "The needle's clean, at least." Nora smiled humorlessly.  
"I don't want to wake up in an alley with water in my veins." Despite her protest, she rolled up the sleeve of her flannel, newly purchased from Daisy, and set the chem on her thigh to tie a bandana around her upper arm. She waited for her hand to throb before dragging the needle across the inside of her elbow lightly and pressing down. As she pressed the plunger delicately, the fluid disappeared into her, and she removed it as it emptied halfway.  
She felt its effects within seconds of passing it off to Hancock, who found a sweet spot without tying off. Her legs felt like fireworks and her head buzzed. After silent minutes Nora felt as though her eardrums were held by fists and her brain was encased in a fog, and soon she began hearing a faint whine like an untuned radio.  
Hancock sighed and kicked his legs up onto the coffee table, knocking away empty inhalers and bottles. "You know, sunshine," he began, beckoning Nora to move her head languidly to the side to see him, "I like when we get fucked up together." 

-

Nora played the night in her head repetitively, anxiety overwhelming her at the thought of having to destroy her fragile connection to the town simply to avoid having to kill or die by Fahrenheit should Hancock's favor turn to flirtation, but she didn't know if she could have even handle the heart of a new man while her husband's corpse lay alone underground, ring finger bare and arms empty.  
She'd taken to wearing Nate's ring on her left thumb, the only digit large enough to at least prevent the ring from sliding off. It left marks in her skin when she held a shotgun, her nerves pinching into the metal band, but she couldn't take it off. At night she twirled it around her fingers, grasping at her memory of slipping it onto his finger at their wedding.  
He'd been her partner through it all, even if she hadn't known if he was her 'one.' She had stopped considering the confusion she felt after Shaun was born. Nate hadn't even been there for the birth. Only Nora's parents and Nate's father had been present, and it had felt like another step towards a future rather than a beginning.  
Nate had written letters from the East with hopeful words about returning quickly or long holidays, but they had never come through. In the end, Nora knew more about Shaun in the year he'd been hers than she ever knew about Nate. The thought made the Commonwealth nights colder. 

-

Nora had left Goodneighbor, stranding Hancock in a confused slump. On the morning she'd left, he'd woken up early and hoped to snipe muties from the rooftops as they had on a couple nights during her short stay. He found the extra room empty, every bit of uneaten food she'd claimed and even trash she'd made gone, leaving him to wonder if she would ever return.  
He had to admit, it was a kick in the head. Fahrenheit offered no sympathy, insisting the Vaultie was a fragile softie and probably couldn't even handle herself in the backstreets of Diamond City without a bodyguard.  
"She could have at least let me know, right?" Hancock rambled on, pacing his office in a mixture of rage and confusion.  
"Who cares?" Fahrenheit scoffed. "She would've OD'd in the Rail or gotten assaulted at the Rexton before too long, and you'd be in the same fuckin' place."  
"Fuck, Fahrenheit," Hancock growled, glaring the woman down, "why are you so fucking defensive about her?"  
"Because she's fucking you up!" The raider shouted, throwing her unlit cigarette down and stepping toward him. "I've seen that stupid look you get and you always end up sulkin' like a fuckin' child and drinking the goddamn Rail dry! You've got a town to run, and these people depend on you. You can't be running after every smoothskinned slut that smiles at you, Hancock!"  
The mayor narrowed his eyes and snarled, narrowing the distance between them in a moment. "You're my fucking bodyguard, doll, not my mother or my advisor or my fuckin' oracle, so," he prodded a finger at her in the air, and continued lowly, "learn your fucking place." He threw his arm down to his side and left the room before she could reply, stomping heavily down the stairs and ignoring the suspicious eyes of his guards. 

In his sanctuary at the Third Rail, he couldn't believe what he'd said to Fahrenheit. He couldn't imagine what horrible things she wanted to do to him but never would. He wouldn't have been surprised if he woke the next day to find her missing, as well.  
The thought of Nora gone made him feel empty. She was fun to get high with - always mellow and talkative on Jet, and never too aggressive on Psycho. Med-x made her smile at him while he told her stories about drifting in the downtown area a decade ago. That was his favorite.  
The second day she was there, her knee had returned to normal and Hancock invited her along to snipe the Super Mutants reportedly pushing their boundaries too close to his town. With her eye at the scope, she told him about going shooting with her father back when there were specific buildings and ranges for practicing. Guns were a lot rarer back then, she'd told him, and were usually reserved for the military and cops. Civvies had to pay out the ass to get their hands on a legally acquired piece, but her father felt it was important for whatever reason. She had paused at this - her eyes searching the ruins for both mutants and reason.  
Regardless of it all, she was gone now. Hancock grimaced before tossing a shot of something heavy and dark down his throat, chasing it with Nuka Cola. He didn't want to be drunk, for once, worrying that he'd dwell on this feeling too hard and take a hit too many and find himself on the receiving end of a short burial.  
But she had made his charming wit irrelevant, pressing past his confident shell to question and listen to the man beneath it. She'd asked him about growing up in Diamond City, whether he thought the Commonwealth would ever thrive, and what thoughts floated through him when he was flying high. What's more is she'd actually listened. She didn't hang her mouth open after the first words of his answer to signal her need to interrupt, nor did she throw out meaningless pleasantries to prove she was listening. She simply watched him throw his arms around in histrionics as he explained why the common man was the ruling man, why wealth should be irrelevant to power, and why Diamond City was proof of humanity's incurable disease of elitism.  
Hancock wondered if he'd said something or done something to make Nora leave. He didn't want to admit it, and damned if he'd let anyone in the Commonwealth know, but he missed her. 

-

"How much for this?"  
The older woman with a bent neck and sunken eyes claiming to be a caravaner drifted her eyes lazily to the heavy automatic in Nora's hands. "20," she slurred, though Nora knew she wasn't fucked up on booze.  
Nora sighed heavily, glaring at the trader. "You give me a Stimpak and some water and it's yours."  
The woman - "Carla" - laughed in her face. "You act like I need your business. _You_ came to _me_ , and I don't owe you shit." Behind her, the caravan guards released the safeties on their rifles, eyeing Nora hard.  
"Fine," Nora grumbled, handing the gun off for a handful of caps and ignoring the smug grin on the dirty woman's face. "Have a fuckin' day." She took long strides to get away from the group before she began screaming in that other woman's face. Ever since she'd left Goodneighbor, she felt the way she had when she'd arrived - broken, angry, and lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a couple rewrites but I wanted a strong, pivotal chapter. Blah blah blah whatever go on.  
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and Kudo'd and took the time to read this. Woo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some altered conversations and character spoilers. You're the best.

Nora didn't like the idea of Diamond City - from the stories Hancock told, it was the perfect symbol of the inescapability of hierarchies. Even in a world with no real currency, no recognized government, and no certainty that you'd make it to sunrise, humans forced each other to crane their necks at each other.  
She had finally found the right river and the right signs, and made her way past guards standing off with a hoard of Super Mutants. She didn't stop, didn't throw herself into a battle she had no ammunition for. She passed more guards as the signs became more frequent, and she came to the clearing of a baseball stadium. Nate had loved baseball, but she had kept herself ignorant of its teams, championships, and politics.  
The entrance was sealed, and a woman shouted into a speaker nearby.  
"You can't do this to me, Danny! I live here! "  
The woman was thin and dressed like someone Nora would have avoided in the past. She threw her arms wildly while she yelled. Nora approached slowly, hoping the woman would move on and harass someone who Nora didn't need to talk to.  
"You!" The woman twisted around to face her, whispering, "You want to get into Diamond City? Follow my lead." She spoke louder to let the man on the intercom hear her. "You're a trader from Quincy? And you've got a lot of shit to unload? Well, sorry, they aren't allowing anyone in, I guess!"  
"Fine!" The man on the intercom shouted, and a rumbling filled the square as the green gate lifted.  
A well-dressed man stood on the other side, immediately glaring at the woman Nora stood beside. "Piper! Who let you in here? I-"  
"You can't lock me or the truth out of your little city, McDonough!" Nora clenched her jaw as she realized who the man was - Hancock had mentioned his brother only briefly, explaining that he gave in to his greed for power and promised to ban ghouls from the city to please the rich smoothskins. Nora's mouth twitched as she stopped herself from grimacing. "Well, why don't we ask the newcomer?"  
McDonough and Piper looked at Nora expectantly, though the mayor seemed nervous. She hadn't been listening again. "What? Are you John's brother?"  
The mayor sputtered incoherently for a moment, making Piper crack a smile. "I'm sorry, I have matters I must attend to." He pepped up and recited a practiced greeting. "Welcome to Diamond City, where you can settle down, spend your caps, and build a life! Do come to my speech tonight at the theater," he turned to Piper, dropping his chipper tone. "And I would like to remind you that you are not allowed within earshot."  
"Yeah, you wouldn't want anyone to have proof of the dumb shit you say," Piper shot. As the mayor huffed and strided away, deeper into the city, the woman turned her attention to Nora. "Anyone who can turn the mayor into an idiot is a friend in my book. Who are you?"  
"I'm Nora," she said, extending her hand out to Piper, who shook it hastily. "I'm looking for a missing person."  
"Piper, writer of Publick Occurrences. Maybe you've," she trailed off as Nora stared blankly at her. "Nah, I'm sure we don't get a lot of circulation outside the Wall. A missing person, huh? Look, I've got some stuff to do, but stop by my office later. I have a story in mind you'd be perfect for." 

 

The rush of chems was different without a partner. In her small hotel room she tied a banana around her arm with her teeth, grinding them as she pulled tight. The single shot of Psycho she could afford shot through her like adrenaline and her pulse beat like bullets in her chest and limbs.  
She relaxed on the mattress, feeling her nerves like needles in her jaw, twitching her hands into fists. She shook like she was cold, and clawed at the syringe she'd tossed into the floor beside her. She steadied it in her hands and read the handwriting on masking tape on its plunger. "PsychoBuff," she read aloud, darting her eyes to Dogmeat, watching her from his corner.  
Trying to relax, Nora found herself sitting at the edge of the bed, scratching lightly at her neck. This is why she didn't trust home brewers. She had stopped using when she found out she was pregnant, but she had gained a fair amount of experience during high school, usually ending highs in a friend's bathtub or car trying to curb her nausea. This moment felt no different.  
Taking chems was something she had learned to prepare for - you didn't sit in your room and take Buffout without some kind of outlet - you didn't take Psycho at a party because the crowd would overwhelm you. Surprises were unwelcome.  
Her mind raced and she gripped the bare mattress. She regretted leaving Goodneighbor. She hated herself for leaving without even a goodbye to Hancock. She could imagine his black eyes filling with anger and betrayal - she had taken chems, food, drinks, and a bed and hadn't even had the decency to shake his hand before vanishing. She missed phones and cars, wishing she could find her way back and apologize; but even if she could, she couldn't let herself be that girl anymore.  
In high school, she might have chased him to the ends of the earth just to be near him, but she had to be strong here. She couldn't let herself become open to blackmail, betrayal, or more loss. But she couldn't help herself from thinking about how his skin had felt like smooth leather in her hand when they'd met or his soft, gravelly voice describing his successes.  
She had loved asking questions about how he had managed to build Goodneighbor up from what it had been and how he had helped his people because it sparked a gleam of confidence in his eyes, and she knew he felt proud of what he had done. She knew had burned that bridge the moment she turned her back on the town and left for the city Hancock would likely never see again.  
She was sweating now, and she hoped it meant she would ride the high out quickly. Her tongue felt too large and her limbs felt too long, and soon she was writhing out of her wet clothing to escape the claustrophobia creeping under her skin. She felt her ears tingling, her thighs tensing, and her head pounding. Nausea swept her off her ass and she bolted from the room to find a place to heave. 

-

Hancock knew it had been three days since Nora left because Fahrenheit repeated it for the second time that day.  
"I ain't hung up on her," Hancock told the woman. "I'm doing the shit I always do - what the fuck do you want?"  
"I want you to admit that she's dead, Hancock. This is the third bitch to ride through here and catch your eye, and it's not going to be the third time I have to explain to you what raiders do to self-righteous settlers."  
"I hadn't thought about her before you mentioned her. Again." He ground out. "Seems like you're thinking about her more than me."  
Fahrenheit's eyes sparked with anger. "You don't get it, Hancock. I say this shit to help you - she didn't stick around, so think real hard about what she did while she was here. She got high for free, drank for free, and slipped out. That's a goddamn crusty, and if she did survive out there, she'll probably be back to do it again."  
Hancock sighed, feeling a weight in his stomach as he accepted Fahrenheit's words. "You're right. Now will you let me smoke in peace?" He lifted his burnt out cigarette to his lips, lit a match down his coat, and held the flame to the end, sucking the virgin smoke in deeply. Fahrenheit was finally quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh. I don't know. Thank you for the hits, Kudos, and comments! If any scenes seem weird, settled, unnatural... You tell me. I love you so much. So much.


	7. Chapter 7

She was at the Dug Out Inn again, picking at molerat outside, tapping the screen of her Pip-Boy absently. Nora had considered going back to Sanctuary Hills and Concord, but she couldn't bring herself to. She didn't want to see the broken homes of her dead neighbors or her entire life's accomplishments lying in rubble. She didn't want to revisit the town Nate had taken her to after they'd moved in, before he left for camp, before Shaun came.  
So she stayed in Diamond City, drinking at the noodle bar and sleeping in the Dugout Inn. She hadn't looked for Valentine, hadn't looked for work, and was spending the last of her caps for one more night.  
She wanted to go back to Goodneighbor, regretted throwing away the minor bond she'd built with the mayor and his town. She hated the green Wall and its citizens' dependence on it. They praised it and glorified it, convincing themselves they were safe. She felt sick seeing the Stands towering above the homeless and poor.  
She didn't want to see the old ads and "junk" from the Old World trading hands - it provoked what she had come to call the Feeling. It was a tingle in her head, a lightness in her limbs, and nausea. It came at night when she imagined falling asleep to Shaun's light sounds. It came when rain fell and she remembered umbrellas and headscarves. It came at its worst when she left the city's boundaries and saw skeletons her age and heard wind whistling through the collapsed monoliths of her own generation. She couldn't eat in the marketplace with nostalgia looming over her, daring her to reminisce.  
She could remember the cousins she barely knew in California, who had sent a Christmas card every year full of names she didn't know. There was the man at the Super Duper Mart who had always greeted her with crooked teeth and sincerity, who had asked about Shaun every other day. There were her old teachers, doctors, every secretary who had checked her name off a list and pleasantly asked her to take a seat, every parent and couple she'd met in the classes about having babies or in the diaper section arguing about their child's future that never came.  
Nora squeezed her eyes shut and pushed herself from the table too quickly and too loudly not to be noticed. Some kid nearby, who talking up strangers and looking for caps, called out to her: "You okay, miss?"  
She stumbled back, eyes wide, feeling embarrassment and anger. She wished they'd all look away and fuck off to their own lives. It was just a bump in the road. She turned and left hastily, ignoring murmurs and a single laugh. It was a man who'd laughed, and Nora wanted to turn back to confront him. She'd ask him what was funny and face fuck him with her pistol until he was the one everyone stared at. She'd mow down the marketplace for some rest. 

-

Hancock smelled vodka and dog meat on Angie as he set his chin on her shoulder and crept a hand up her thigh. The ghoul giggled in a raspy voice at his forwardness and wriggled in the couch. He'd come to the Third Rail to find something to get him through a rough night - he'd lost a scouting team he'd sent out to Pickman Gallery, and it seemed to be Raiders. He was in the bar to forget for awhile, before he'd have to return to his office and his "mayoral duties."  
Angie was a sweet girl, but her skin wasn't soft and her eyes didn't glint when she laughed, and she had no hair to tussle when she got particularly high. Regardless, Hancock sunk an aggressive finger beneath Angie's skirt band and tugged at it, and the ghoul excused herself to the drifter she'd been speaking with. She grabbed Hancock's hand with unwelcome familiarity, and he followed her with neither haste nor hesitation. He motioned at the door and barked at McCready: "Get out, man - I got a meeting with the lady." The Smoothskin grumbled at him and came close to shoulder checking the mayor on his way out; he always seemed to want to, but never did, and Hancock knew he never would. McCready was just foiled intentions.  
Angie sat in Hancock's lap and ground her hips on him, ran her teeth against his throat, and made hoarse noises under her breath. Hancock forced the corner of his mouth up and narrowed his eyes on her, projecting every ounce of confidence he could find in himself to get himself into it.  
He couldn't get himself to find the woman attractive. She was nice and funny and had stories to tell, but she wasn't what Hancock wanted. He wanted smooth flesh under his fingertips and soft lips against his - he wanted to grope at a rounded ass and bite at fleshy thighs that turned pink and red. Angie was sweet, but ghouls could only hold onto so much of themselves as they fell apart - Hancock was thankful he was different than the ghouls that had suffered centuries of decay and aggression. Sure, he'd lost a toe, but it was after a bet with a knife and poorly-played stabscotch, and little else had shown any decomposition.  
Angie said something and Hancock blinked. "Sorry, doll, what's up?"  
The other ghoul huffed and pushed off of him, straightening her shirt. "You motherf- you just do whatever you want and think no one cares! I thought we had somethin'. You just feel me up and ignore me? Fuck this!" She left the Third Rail in a rage, and Hancock was met with an uncomfortable silence and knew people were talking about it outside the VIP area. He rolled his eyes and lifted himself from the couch, awkwardly trudged toward the exit, and left without a word to Ham or Charlie. He hoped Mags would sing something nice to bring back the mood until he would inevitably make his way back to the bar.  
Until then, he had to find peace in checking on his people. Clair wanted more security, the guards wanted less; Fahrenheit wanted to lead a new team to scout out Pickman, but no one wanted to go; and a new drifter calling himself Dee insisted Hancock be on the lookout for a rogue Vault Dweller in the area.  
At this, Hancock stopped. "What? Nora? She's been out awhile." He shook his head angrily as he began to leave, but Dee stopped him.  
"No, man! I saw her! She's coming, man, I swear. You'll see. She's going to do some big shit. _Huge_."  
Hancock glared at the drifter and brought his face close to the smoothskin, who hid his eyes under dark shades. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Hancock growled.  "How d'you know her?"  
Dee threw his arms up and backed off, grinning; "She made me who I am today, man!" Hancock watched the man turn the corner and head into the Memory Den. He wondered if the guy meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dee."  
> I check the view, comment, and Kudo count every day before work. Go on, start my day off right.  
> Thanks for reading though, seriously!


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey, you." Nora had fallen asleep at the Noodle bar again. It was nearly dusk, and Dogmeat had probably made his way to Sanctuary Hills. She'd sent him away, despite his doe eyes, in fear the dog would turn feral or get hurt with all the violence she seemed to find. The robot at the bar repeated its programmed Japanese and moved its arms. Beside her was a figure in a gas mask, settling into a stool. "You look like you could use a job."  
Nora scoffed and straightened her back. "Depends on the job."  
"Manual labor. Name's Bobbi. I'm diggin' a tunnel. Fifty caps to start. I'll throw in another hundred when you're done if you can find your way around a lock. " It was the voice of a female ghoul, and she kept it low. Nora knew if she called the ghoul out, the guards would find them in moments.  
"A smart ghoul carries more than fifty." Nora sipped her stale beer from the night before.  
"Fine. One hundred now, and the rest when the job's done - but keep your fucking mouth shut."  
Nora faced the woman and tilted her chin. "Digging and lockpicking?"  
"I got a buddy in the Diamond City prison. Break him out and meet me in Goodneighbor when it's dark. Don't need anyone seein'-"  
"Goodneighbor?" Nora repeated. "I can't - well, shouldn't. I don't know."  
"Well, I'm sure someone else would like to eat tonight." The woman started to stand and Nora grit her teeth. She growled and slammed her beer bottle down.  
"Fine."  
The ghoul chuckled.  "Good girl. My buddy's name's Mel. He'll know where to go." She slid a gloved hand across the counter and left behind a paper bag crumpled around caps. "See you in Goodneighbor." Bobbi strode away towards Diamond City's gate, and Nora weighed the bag in her hand. 

The Diamond City security office was what Nora expected from a town run by the rich - dim, dirty, and corrupt. The entire ball of caps went to the guard in charge and Mel, a sketchy ginger man with a light voice, was released and followed Nora out.  
"You know," he told her as they made their way toward the front gate quickly, "I only had, like, a day left. Bobbi couldn't wait?"  
"I guess not. You got any food?" She ignored his blistering tone and swung her backpack to her front to rifle through it as they walked. "We're getting to Bunker Hill but-"  
"I got caps, if that's what you mean." Mel grumbled. "But you pay me your half when Bobbi pays out."  
Nora grimaced. "I spent half my pay to get you out - least you could do it pay to get there."  
"Yeah, well, it's not my fault you couldn't figure out a better way." His voice grated on Nora's nerves and she looked over her shoulder at him.  
"I'll put you back in there, fuckface," she spat, catching his eye. He wasn't the kind to hold up in a fight, she could tell, but he didn't cower from confrontation.  
"How 'bout we just see how the job goes before we make any promises?" 

The hike was short and quiet, and soon she saw the tall waypoint of Bunker Hill in the distance. The sun had set and Nora could feel hunger gnawing at her. She hadn't had more than a couple off-tasting shish kebabs in the previous two days, and every bit of liquid had been alcohol. She was feeling dizzy again, and she felt her stomach churning as they passed the smoldering skeletons of cars and empty buildings. She figured she was feeling the beginning of dehydration, but it wasn't something she could address in the middle of a dead neighborhood.  
"Hey, uh, you feelin' alright?" Mel asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You're lookin' a lil' pale."  
"Pitch me some water and I'll let you know," she responded, her throat contracting like sandpaper against rock.  
"Jeez, Bobbi sure knows how to pick 'em. Have you ever even been outside the Wall? You know you have to plan for this shit, right? Otherwise, you'll die?" Nora had to stop herself from whipping her pistol at his face as he pulled a half-empty can of dirty water from his over-filled pack. She regretted taking the work, which, at that point, had her breaking even. The idiot Bobbi demanded she bring only made Nora want to get to Goodneighbor sooner. She briefly considered pushing on through the night, but the faintness in her head and heaviness in her abdomen convinced her otherwise. She only hoped that Mel would at least cover her dinner, even if she had to sleep on the concrete of the marketplace. 

Reaching Bobbi's place at the end of an alley in Goodneighbor took less than an hour. Nora and Mel left Bunker Hill just as the sky became cerulean and hinted and sunrise. She shivered in the chill of dawn but Mel ignored her. He hadn't said much since he'd paid for the rooms and the two parted for the night. Nora appreciated his silence. She hated his pretentious tone and hoped the job would end quickly.  
Bobbi met the two at the door, rushing them in as she watched the alleyway for a tail. Her home was decrepit and stunk of cigarettes and meat. She locked the metal door and led them to the basement, where a wall had been partially torn down to reveal a neighboring maintenance hole. The room was half-flooded and the bodies of two men lay near the corpses of two disfigured monsters.  
"What the fuck are those?" Nora questioned, refusing to follow Bobbi and Mel further into the room. Mel huffed as he began undoing his pack.  
"These are _Mirelurks_ ," Mel responded impatiently. "Have you ever been outside?"  
Nora shot him a hard glare. "I've been in a Vault, asswipe." Bobbi laughed and Mel shook his head, focusing on the spherical robot he revealed.  
"Anything for an extra pair of hands," he grumbled. The robot buzzed suddenly and sparks lit up its front-facing antennae. "Here you go, Bobbi. This is Sonia - she emits sonic pulses at a frequency that'll dislodge any loose rubble or dirt we come by."  
"You had that with you in jail?" Nora asked, stepping toward the robot as it lifted itself into the air.  
Bobbi interrupted Mel as he began to answer; "This genius was supposed to meet me in Diamond City and got arrested before I arrived." Her drawl was thick with disdain.  
"Lucky me," Nora replied sullenly, turning from Sonia to face Bobbi. "So, what, you're building a mansion addition?"  
Bobbi cracked a smile. "No, we're digging to Diamond City. The mayor is sitting on a strong room hiding every bit of wealth the city has." Nora furrowed her brow. "Plus, it might make a certain mayor of ours take you back in."  
Nora felt her mouth twitch and she wrinkled her nose. "How the fuck did you-"  
Bobbi stopped her, chuckling. "Word gets around quick in Goodneighbor. The Mayor's new arm candy goes missing, his people notice. But," she turned to face the electronics console at the far wall, "you made it that much easier to go _unnoticed_."  
Nora tried to interject, but Mel pointed at the wall, shouting, "Take it down, Sonia!"  
The robot lit up and it felt like an earthquake exploded from it. Nora covered her ears too late, and the blast left a ringing in her head. A section of the wall collapsed, leading to a dark tunnel.  
"Just keep going Southwest," Bobbi told her, nudging Nora towards the new doorway. "You lead." 

The underground system led to a subway station crawling in feral ghouls, whose eyes glew bright in the sparsely-lit tunnels. They crawled out from under the trains and piles of rubble and trash. Nora imagined they'd been trapped long ago and lost their minds in the solitude.  
She wished she'd kept Dogmeat at her side. The dog had been especially good at taking down ghouls, grabbing their throats and limbs with crushing jaws. Another companion she needed and dropped.  
Finally, the trio came to a red-lit room occupied by a skeleton on a sleeping bag. Nora cringed as she reached past its meatless arms to grab its pack, and she dropped from the rise to escape it. Its jaw sat beside the empty skull and seemed to gape at her. She shuddered. It was too much like the Vault. Too much like the other occupants, who died completely unaware that their last thoughts were of a new life. Nora was shaken from the memory by Bobbi's voice.  
"Come on, Vaultie - this is the last room."  
Mel spoke up. "Um, shouldn't we have to go at least another few miles North to get to Diamond City?"  
"If you doubt me, just blow the next room and you'll see for yourself."  
Mel hesitated. Bobbi ignored him and motioned at the last room, a cavern of Old World plumbing and concrete. Nora heard Mel exhale loudly before commanding Sonia to use maximum power. The robot shot into the cavern and a loud explosion shook the tunnel system. Dust erupted from the entrance and Mel ran in after his creation. "Sonia, no!"  
Bobbi shook her head and jabbed Nora's side with her elbow. "You ready for a hot meal and warm bed?"  
She ignored the ghoul and pressed on, stopping to kneel by the broken robot. Mel was hovering over it on his knees, picking up bits of frayed wire and burnt metal. "Come on, girl, I'll get you working again."  
Nora frowned at the man and gingerly set a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, we'll get her back. I know a bit of robotics from school." She paused and Mel was silent. "Maybe I can help."  
The man sighed and hung his head. "I'm sure I'll manage." He offered a small smile. "Thanks, though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so impatient to get the fucking romance started. Should be next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

Bobbi led Mel and Nora up a steep incline of broken concrete. What made Nora stop was the sunlight peeking through a tin roof above them. "Bobbi," she shouted at the ghoul, who'd already thrown open the door above ground, "I thought-"  
She was interrupted by a louder, harder voice whose owner Nora realized to be Fahrenheit, Hancock's _something_. "Bobbi."  
Nora caught up and watched Bobbi's face fall. "Shit."  
"You seriously thought Hancock wouldn't catch wind of your scheme? He took you in, Bobbi. And you're stealing from him?"  
Nora's eyes widened. "Hancock?"  
Bobbi shot her a hostile glare. "Don't listen to her."  
Nora reached for her pistol and moved her face close to Bobbi's. She screamed at the ghoul, "Where the fuck are we, Bobbi?"  
Fahrenheit chuckled in the otherwise silent moment that followed. She was high up on a metal bridge flanked by two men whose sights were trained on Bobbi. "I see you two aren't in on the secret."  
She saw Mel backing way, voice frantic. "Oh, shit, Bobbi - Hancock? That guy tends to hold grudges."  
Nora shoved Bobbi's shoulder hard and forced the woman to look at her. She repeated, louder, "Where the fuck are we?"  
"Alright, fine - you were gonna find out eventually," Bobbi snarled. "This is Hancock's strongroom."  
Fahrenheit began a retort, but Nora wasn't listening. She raised her pistol to Bobbi's head as the ghoul looked at Fahrenheit; Bobbi began to react, but Nora was pulling the trigger. The shot rang loud and burned in Nora's ears. Bobbi's eyes went blank, blood began to leak from the wound in her temple, and she crumpled to the ground.  
"Fuck!" Fahrenheit shouted, stomping the metal bridge in surprise. Mel jumped back, raising his arms in surrender. Above them, Fahrenheit motioned at Nora. "Get the fuck up here, Vault-girl. I deserve an explanation."  
Nora climbed the ramp and approached Fahrenheit cautiously, prepared to fight. "Now, what the fuck are you doing here? I can see these idiots breaking in, but you - you fuck up over and over."  
Nora crossed her arms and looked away, defensive at Fahrenheit's words. "She told me we were going to Diamond City and breaking into their strongroom," she insisted, chewing her tongue in a haze of adrenaline. "If I'd known we'd be here, I'd have just gone straight to Goodneighbor. What a fucking waste of time," she ranted.  
"Chill for a fucking second," Fahrenheit interrupted. "You runnin' fuckin' heists now? Heard you were bummin' in Diamond City all this time? Hancock gives you a fucking place to stay and food and shit and you leave to be homeless? And now this? You trying to get on Hancock's bad side?" Fahrenheit looked disgusted; Nora grit her teeth.  
"I already fucking told you I didn't know this was Hancock's place. And I fuckin' left because I-" she ran lies through her head for a viable answer. She stalled too long and Fahrenheit scoffed.  
"You are trash. Don't bother coming back-"  
Nora grit out, "Look, I got fucking scared because Hancock was getting close to me and I just fucking saw my husband get murdered." She tensed and narrowed her eyes at Fahrenheit, uncomfortable with the intimate confession. She was nearly shouting, "Alright?"  
Fahrenheit gave little response. She nodded at the two men beside her and they began leaving. "Get the fuck back to Goodneighbor, meat. Explain yourself."  
Nora followed slowly and glanced around, noting that Mel had disappeared. Fahrenheit led them back to the tunnel, where they found the man delicately pulling his pack around Sonia. The woman crossed her arms and he stared hard back. "If I ever hear you involved in this kind of shit with Goodneighbor or its people again, I'll leave you out for the Super Mutants, Mel," she growled. He shoved his bag onto his back and straightened quickly.  
"I'd never- well, not intentionally," he fumbled, "of course."  
"We're going back this way, so get a move on," she demanded.  
He fell in line behind the group as they passed back through the tunnels, silently stepping over the tangled bodies of ghouls and Mirelurks.  
When they came to Bobbi's place, Fahrenheit let the group look over the abandoned home. Mel poked around in a filing cabinet, shoving papers roughly into his pockets. Fahrenheit opened the front door and shouted at them to fuck off,  motioning them out and locking the heavy door behind them.  
She glanced at Nora. "Go see Hancock. Now." 

-

By now, Hancock figured, Fahrenheit had probably filled Bobbi with bullets and talked Nora into leaving. He was in what she had used as a guest room, piling cigarette butts into the ashtray as he waited for news.  
He still had some hope that Nora didn't know what she was doing, that Bobbi had tricked her, but Fahrenheit had spoken against her the moment they heard from a scout that she was involved. He leaned against the wall where he could see the stairwell, impatient for _someone_ to show up.  
After an hour of pacing, Hancock finally relaxed into the chair by the window, shutting his eyes. He couldn't stop the hopeful thoughts of Nora showing up, telling him to chill out, and explaining a completely reasonable story. He could barely stomach the improbability of it.  
A soft voice stopped his thoughts and he shot up, eyes open. "Nora?" Her hair was shorter, lighter, and hung over her brow; she had the last layer of face paint on her forehead, and had ditched the Vault suit. He hardly recognized her, but her blue, bloodshot eyes were too familiar for him to question. She crossed her arms and gave a weak smile. He refused to return it, leaning against the desk behind him. "Didn't expect you here."  
She nodded, shifting her weight awkwardly. "Fahrenheit said I should come up. I owe you my story. And an apology for dipping out on you." She bit her lip thoughtfully, uncrossing her arms, then met his gaze. "I'm so sorry. It was probably the shittiest thing I've ever done. You gave me so much, and I just threw it back at you," she admitted.  
Hancock nodded slowly and stared at the ground, saying nothing. Nora stared at him in futility before taking the moment to continue. 

-

"Bobbi approached me in Diamond City and offered me two hundred caps for a digging job and to break Mel out of jail. I brought Mel here and Bobbi told us we were breaking into McDonough's strongroom. So we did what she said, and it turned out to be yours." He raised his eyes to her and she felt her jaw begin to tense and she twisted her fingers together. "I shot Bobbi and Fahrenheit brought Mel and me back through the tunnel. Now," she sighed, spreading her arms, "here I am."  
Hancock was still quiet and she lowered her arms, shame and regret filling her insides like tar. She felt like her heart was running on Psycho. Finally, he spoke up. His voice was low and cautious; "I'm glad you're back."  
Nora let a smile slip onto her face and she felt her dehydrated skin pull taut. He raised himself from the desk, but kept his distance. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you," she started, voice hopeful.  
"Don't worry, sister, you're welcome back." He pulled a cigarette from his coat and held it between his lips as he lit it, chiefing the cigarette's low-burning cherry and filling the distance between them with smoke. Nora felt her back tense at the sight, craving nicotine. "Just don't pull anymore runaway shit."  
His tone was gruff, and Nora agreed quickly. She wanted what they had back, but he made her wonder if it was possible. He seemed so distant, a mirage in the plumes of wasted smoke, and she wished she could bring herself to explain why she had left, the way she had to Fahrenheit. She worried he would laugh at her misinterpretation, or cringe at the idea of a widower mother in his bed. Nora took silence over the risk.  
Hancock stepped towards her and reached an arm across her shoulders, pulling her to face the stairwell with him. She tensed and remembered Finn and the similarly friendly act preceding the attack. The harness she wore beneath her armor left her shoulders mostly bare, and she felt a sickening comfort in the soft fabric of his coat's sleeve on her sunburnt skin. "How 'bout we get a round and talk this over somewhere comfortable? No reason this needs to be so formal." He sounded reassuring, squeezing her forearm lightly as he led her down the stairs, leaning against her as he took slow drags.  
"I, uh," she mumbled, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment, "I never got paid, so I don't have any caps.  
"When has that ever been an issue?" he teased.  
Nora shook her head; "I'll sleep in the street if I have to, but I can't keep taking your shit."  
He took his arm from her shoulder and grabbed the harness strap crossing her back, forcing her to face him as they reached the landing. "Look, doll, I'll give you whatever I feel like, and when I don't want to give anymore, I won't. You got me?" He spoke softly but his words were pointed, as though he'd made the argument before.  
"Then let me repay you, at least," she insisted. Nora didn't want people 'talking' and calling her 'arm candy' like Bobbi had.  
Hancock was confident and agile, and beside him Nora felt useless, dirty, and inadequate. He'd hung a man from a balcony and took reign of the small town, yet made small talk with his guards and checked on his citizens daily. She couldn't imagine a better man in the cruel, distorted world surrounding them, and couldn't handle the mixed emotions he provoked. She wanted to praise him and help his town, yet she wanted to keep him to herself and watch him grin and space out after a good hit. She wanted to beg him to forget everything that she had done, while wishing she could scream at him to get over it just to see if he could.  
"Yeah, we'll figure something out," he responded lazily, leading her to the Third Rail before any passersby could try to call her out. The people of Goodneighbor seemed to accept her back into their streets, but she still felt stares on her as she followed the mayor into the bar.  
Charlie greeted Hancock, who grabbed several beers from the robot before taking Nora to the empty couches by the small stage. He settled back and cocked his head, motioning for her to sit beside him. Nora felt her face heat lightly at the gesture. She had expected to be half-way to Bunker Hill to beg for caps by that point, unprepared for Hancock to give in so easily. He cracked the cap off of his first drink, pulling the nearby ottoman close and putting his feet up casually.  
Nora opened her beer, keeping her limbs tight to her body, hesitant to cave into the comfortable setting before she was sure they were on good terms. Hancock took a swig, and spoke just loud enough for only Nora to hear; "Just tell me why you disappeared on me, doll. A lady doesn't just shove out before dawn in downtown Boston without a real good explanation."  
Nora sighed, frustrated with the question's revival. "I felt like I was invading your and Fahrenheit's space," she offered lamely. "So, I left to go find work to pay you back."  
"I don't need to be 'paid back.'" His tone was resolute, and she could tell he didn't buy it. "And what the hell do you mean by my and Fahrenheit's space?"  
"I thought you two were," she paused rolling her eyes, " _together_."  
Hancock laughed aloud and Nora pressed her side against the couch's back, smiling only to be polite. "Holy shit, sunshine - me and Fahrenheit? She'd be quicker to fuck you than me," he told her, grinning. Nora shut her mouth tight and met his amused eyes with fire. "Why didn't you just say something?"  
"I didn't know how to ask if I was stopping you from fucking without being impolite," she shot back, half-smiling at the ghoul.  
He chuckled, sitting up straight. "Fuckin' shit - you would go all the way to Diamond City to be homeless before you'd make another woman uncomfortable?"  
"I didn't say that," she grumbled, but he ignored it.  
"I mean, I'm a catch and all, but there's no need to put yourself out just to keep the temptation away," he purred, laughing at his final word. Nora grinned and shook her head, taking a long swig - she was relieved when he laughed. 

Six beers deep and on her second shot of Jet, Nora found herself lying against Hancock's side as he continued drinking, listening to Magnolia. It was pushing into the evening and more people were showing up.  
As Magnolia finished her song and thanked the crowd, Hancock nudged Nora's shoulder. "Maybe we should take this party somewhere more private. I love my people but I hate a crowd."  
He was lying, she knew - he loved crowds, especially the ones who greeted him one by one and stroked his ego with every word - but she didn't care to call him on it. She thought of being in high school, when being asked to join a guy alone would have made her heart race, but she doubted the mayor had anything in mind after only just forgiving her.  
She followed him back out of the bar without question, and he hovered by the entrance of the State House, surveying his town carefully. Satisfied that no one needed his attention, he swung the door open and smiled at her. "Ladies first."  
Nora snorted at him, entering the building and heading up the stairs, gripping the banister hard to balance her. "Fuck I haven't had that much to drink in awhile," she groaned, taking a moment at the top to regain her center.  
"We're just getting started," he replied, sauntering past her without a hint of dizziness.  
She nodded at the guards as she joined Hancock in his office, and he closed the double doors behind them. "Where's Fahrenheit?" Nora asked as she set her pack against the wall and reclined onto a sofa. Her back popped and she moaned in relief, arching her back for more.  
"Recon at a sketchy place up North. I figured she'd come by before she left, but, hey." He didn't seem bothered by it, but Nora wished Fahrenheit was there, just to give the room the uncomfortable weight that had prevented Nora from getting too friendly with the man. Without the hard-eyed woman, Nora was too free - she had felt the tension between herself and Hancock rising back. It was an exciting feeling, mixed with anxiety and admiration.  
She was just a regular woman with a boring life, relative to the survivors of the New World, yet the man who savaged tyrants and owned every wall in the popular town sat beside her despite the open couch across from them, and offered her chems from his 'private stash.' She felt both lucky and out-of-place. She didn't have glorified stories of murdering Raiders for vengeance or lifting caps from wealthy pockets. She could only listen.  
She felt his knee brush hers as he prepared a shot of Psycho and it sent a jolt up her leg. "You alright, sunshine? Too much of the poison?" He was teasing her, but she nodded.  
"No worries - I'm just jittery. Lotta shit went down today. You know." She busied herself with her Pip-Boy as he took the shot and dipped the needle into a glass of antiseptic the table.  
"Well, chill - all's good in Goodneighbor." She grinned despite her anxiety - the Jet lingering in her system kept her from hiding it. She pulled the syringe from the glass and prepared herself, pressing the needle into her arm without a tie-off. She was too ready to let go of her troubles to stop for the sake of ease. 

-

Hancock watched as Nora pressed the plunger swiftly - she was obviously on edge again. "So, I gotta tell you, I'm sorry for making you deal with the mess with Bobbi by yourself. I try to avoid that dictatorial kind of shit, but, when I heard you were involved, I knew you'd do the right thing." He was fucking lying - he had figured Fahrenheit would have to break the crew up, and that he would never see the Vaultie again. But he wanted her to think he believed.  
Her blue eyes were shining when she pulled the Psycho away, tossing it onto the table. She sighed and lolled her head to the side, eyelids low. She made adrenaline shoot through him when she looked at him like that - even before she left - and he grinned back at her. She spoke in a husky voice, higher than he'd expected: "Anything you need, John, I got you."  
He was taken aback by his first name - even Daisy didn't call him 'John' anymore - but her lips suited it. Her loyalty had thrown him at first, but he had begun to realize she wasn't entirely the cold bitch she appeared to be. She had been scared off, possibly by his unintentional advances, but she came back nearly begging for his trust. He decided to take his chance while she was in space. "So you thought Fahrenheit and I were together? And it bothered you?" He smirked at her, in case she came back took it too seriously.  
"Yeah, you were really nice and I didn't want her to murder me," she replied on a distant voice.  
"Seems like it'd take more than 'nice' to scare you off, doll," he pushed.  
She shrugged. " _Really_ nice?" Hancock laughed. Her eyes focused on him and he saw the glassiness lifting.  
"Come on, be honest," he ventured, hoping the high would last long enough for her to slip up.  
She sighed again, harder, running a hand through her hair roughly. The fading paint on her forehead made her eyes stand out, loud like blue skies through a storm. "I thought you were flirting with me and I took off."  
Hancock was satisfied with her confession and laid back against the couch. "Don't you worry, sunshine - I'd never do anything crazy. I ain't feral yet," he joked, but Nora kept her face straight and her eyes on a window. "Hey, c'mon, it's all good. Don't let it kill your buzz."  
She blinked hard and met his gaze, her face was unreadable but he knew she was riding a bad high now. He wanted to backtrack and stop her from freaking out - he couldn't seem to pinpoint what was setting her off into panics - and he didn't want to push her away again.  
She ran her hands up her face, avoiding the black paint, and turned herself to face him. "Hancock," she began hesitantly, " _were_ you flirting with me?"  
He tensed his shoulders and set his jaw, thinking hard and studying her face for a clue on how to answer. Her brow was lowered and she narrowed her eyes at him, pushing him to respond. Finally, he answered, the words sticking to his tongue like Mentats after Jet; "Yeah, I guess I was."  
Nora placed a hand onto his thigh and, all too quickly, lifted herself to press a kiss against his lips, then pulled back and exhaled shakily. "Fuck," she hissed, taking her hand back. "I'm sorry - maybe I'm just _stressed out_."  
'Stressed Out,' was what people said, in Hancock's experience, when they meant what they did but hoped to avoid consequences. The way she gripped the couch cushions and bit her lower lip convinced him. He sat up, leaning close to her; the movement caught her by surprise and he pressed his hand against her hair to pull her face close. He kept them apart, barely, willing her to take action.  
She kissed him hard, clutching his thigh with both hands, tilting her chin in invitation. He couldn't believe she'd responded at all - a smoothskin from before the bombs was the last person on the barren planet he would expect to not only accept his visage, but to allow his skin against hers. As he felt her tongue pass against his lips, he let his own tongue slip into her mouth, running it against her lips and taking in her taste of chems, booze, and Nuka Cola.  
His head filled with thoughts of her soft skin, scratching lines into her hips and sucking raw marks onto her. He let a groan slip, and Nora began closing her mouth, pulling away.  
Her eyes were no longer hazey, and her face settled into an expression of confident realization. He smirked back, daring her to act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I've been writing since 2005, before I even entered middle school, but I have never written straight smut. I always crapped out before the good stuff. I also only yesterday began wearing tank tops in public, so it's a slow process. Anyway, I hope there's something next chapter.  
> Thank you for reading and for the lovely comments and Kudos and Bookmarks and views! They make my insides warm. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I have literally never written het smut. So here it goes.

Nora grabbed Hancock's shoulders and crawled over him, pressing him back against the arm of the couch. He held her waist as she hovered over him, rubbing up her ribs and down to her hips, taking in her soft curves. Her weight on his shoulders started pinching, and she sat back onto his legs, breaking the kiss and avoiding the hardness below the flag he'd tied around his hips.  
She ran her hands from the flag up his chest to wrap back around his shoulders, leaning over him teasingly. His breath came sharp as she arched her back, her abdomen rubbing against his dick. "Hey, sunshine," he rasped, pulling her by the waist to level their eyes, "you might be a bit far gone for this. I don't need you tripping too hard and going too far."  
Nora studied him before reaching between them to caress his throbbing cock, forcing him to inhale quickly. "I was buzzed, not drunk. Besides-" she gripped him, feeling for the sweet spots she could find, pressing a nerve beneath the head of his cock "-we don't have to do anything too crazy. Just let me help out."  
Before he could respond, she scoot herself down to bring her lips to the fabric covering his hard-on. Hancock relaxed his head against the armrest, watching her press kisses against him. "I don't think that's a great idea for your first time with a ghoul," he advised through clenched teeth as he felt himself throb against her.  
"Shut up, Hancock," she murmured, eyes shut. "I'm a big girl." She undid the simple knot in the flag and worked his pants open, smoothly pulling them halfway down his thigh, releasing his cock into the cold air.  
Hancock marveled at her - she was the first smoothskin to even see his dick since he'd turned. The only non-ghoul he'd been with since he'd changed had ridden him hard in an armchair and never made eye contact. Nora, however, met him head-on, dragging her tongue from the hot base to the glistening tip, earning a soft groan from the ghoul.  
She grinned before wrapping her fingers around his base and she held his hardness straight up, teasing beneath the head at a sensitive spot. Though he remained silent, his cock twitched and throbbed against her torturous mouth. "You want to fuck my mouth?" she purred, opening her eyes to meet his, smirking.  
" _Fuck_ , baby," he growled, bucking his hips, begging for her to touch him.  
She made a satisfied noise and returned to his cock, making a trail of wet kisses down his shaft before hovering her mouth over him. He watched her, mouth parted, breath slow. She held her mouth open wide, holding him tightly, and carefully lowered herself, avoiding contact with his skin. She exhaled hard, flicking her tongue against him. The heat overwhelmed his weeping cock and he bucked again, but she held firm. She pulled away, and lowered again, closing her lips around only his head, licking the salty precum dripping for her and sucking hard, provoking a low moan from Hancock. His hands shot to her hair and gripped hard, willing her to shove him down her throat.  
He heard her inhale through her nose for a long moment before her tongue slid from her mouth to wet her lips and she dropped, sliding his cock straight into her mouth, slamming it against the back of her throat.  Hancock threw his head back, causing him to arch and press harder against her throat. He groaned again, louder, and she nodded her head, rubbing him against every bit of her mouth he could reach. He took the hint and withdrew from her smoldering mouth, to thrust back in, his jaw clenching as he felt her slack tongue against the underside and the ridges of her palate running along his shaft as he fucked her mouth.  
She took every chance to inhale, allowing him to pummel her burning, wet throat until he began thrusting lighter, feeling his balls tighten. Strength left him and he dropped his hands from her hair to prop himself up.  
Nora took charge, grabbing his hips and bouncing her head to take him in, moaning for him. Her noises were muffled and choked and she coated his cock in saliva; he hadn't had a girl blow him in over a decade, and he doubted he'd last much longer.  
She pulled up again, sucking at the head and meeting his eyes, her pupils blown out in excitement, and she slipped him in again, burying her nose against his abdomen. Hancock growled low as he felt himself about to cum, and he muttered quickly, "Back off, baby girl."  
She ignored him and lifted her free hand to his balls, rubbing him in her hands as she continued impaling herself on him. She moaned again, loud and sweet against his flesh, and Hancock felt a relieving heat explode throughout him. He watched as Nora pulled back enough to make eye contact again, and she sucked hard, his sensitive cock twitching against her cheeks as he came. Hancock moaned and bit hard on his lip as Nora stuck her tongue out languidly, dripping his cum into her hands before licking her fingers clean.   
She released him, finally, lavishing the head of his cock with her tongue before wiping her spit off with her hand and pulling his pants back to his hips. He was breathing hard and staring at the ceiling, and spoke in a tone drained of energy; "Fuck."  
Nora grinned proudly, crawling up to face him, hanging over him. "Glad I satisfy," she whispered, eyes dark. Hancock returned her smug expression and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down onto him.  
He spoke low into her ear, "You're the dirtiest girl I've ever seen. I ain't letting you get away that easy."  
She huffed, surprised, and he held her close, biting into her neck hard, her ligaments like wire against his teeth. She moaned lightly, grinding herself against him. "You want some, too, baby?" he whispered, unbuckeling the single strap covering her bra. She reached behind her and undid the strap, letting it fall from her as she straddled him. He raised himself with her, pressing his mouth against a hard nipple, circling it with his tongue. Nora ground against him, whimpering.  
Hancock swore she could turn him feral with her noises alone. She moaned and wrapped her hand around the back of his head, pulling him closer. His hand found her other nipple and toyed with it, squeezing and pinching choked moans from her. Suddenly, he yanked her sideways, facing her toward the wall, and bent her over the back of the couch.  
Her back arched and her ass swayed in need. She undid her harness quickly for him, and he tore it from her as the last buckled snapped, leaving her only in panties.  
He gripped her ass firmly, squeezing the smooth flesh between his fingers, and she yelped, bouncing herself in his face. Hancock grinned and dragged a finger against her pussy, loving the whimper she made as she wriggled impatiently.  
"Oh, you don't like being teased?" he asked, pulling at the crotch of her underwear and snapping it back. She jolted, moaning.  
"Do something - anything. Please."  
"I love a girl who begs," he purred, pulling away the white clothing to reveal her hairless pussy, wet with need. "Oh shit."  
Nora's head shot up, suddenly sobered. "What?"  
"Never seen a hairless smoothskin," he mused, pressing his fingers against her, earning a moan from her.  
"It, uhm, it was a birthday-" she groaned, bucking against his teasing fingers "-present in college."  
He didn't respond, only held half of her ass up with one hand to expose her to him, and shoved two fingers deep into her heat. She cried out, clawing at the back of the couch as he curled his fingers in her. He withdrew and pounded back into her, hungry for the tightness he felt. He wanted to fuck her like this, powerless and begging, ass in the air like a present to a king. He always had a thing for dominance.  
She grabbed for the couch as her cries became needy and quick, but he didn't relent - he felt her contract around his fingers as he slid in a third. She splayed her legs wider as he stretched her, and soon she was thrusting her hips to fuck herself while he watched, reaching to pinch and twist a nipple lightly. Nora lifted herself as she rode his hand, her jaw falling open as she came, a long moan dropping from her lips.  
Hancock licked the lips of her pussy as he pulled his fingers out, and Nora whined, popping her ass up for him. He stepped back, redoing his pants and tying the flag hastily, before she noticed she'd made him hard again. He picked up her harness as she slid back into the couch, naked and glistening. "That's a picture," he said, handing her the clothing and taking in the view.  
She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled as she slipped back into the straps and redid her bra. "I could use another hit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll get heavier, I swear.  
> Let me know how I did!  
> I love you for reading! <3


	11. John McDonough

John's head was pounding when the hand smacked across his face. He felt his arms bound behind him, knotted to a brittle wooden chair. A single bare light bulb hung above the three men surrounding him. They were in a Goodneighbor warehouse, harshly lit and thick with dust.   
The scrawny member of the group was Ricky, a major dealer for Goodneighbor and a well-protected gangster. The only tough thing about him was his ability to order his bodyguards around. Unfortunately, it was the only skill he needed with John unarmed and disabled.  
Ricky laughed and a guard, a fat fuck named Charlie, grabbed the back of the chair roughly, shaking John's shoulders jarringly. Ricky lit a cigarette casually, taking time to admire his hostage. "Johnny boy, you oughtta know, nothin' gets in the way of my business. And you," he pointed the cigarette at John, ash dropping in clumps,  "got in the way."  
John readjusted himself and smirked, confidence in his words; "And how did I do that, Ricky? You know you're my man. Why ruin what we got?"  
A heavy hand contacted with the back of his head, his spine aching from the shock.  "You been bringin' in _Addictol_ for the Lewis kid, you smarth-mouthed fuck," Ricky spat. "I told you to step off, John - you don't _fuck_ with my goddamn business." Ricky was shouting now, the filter of his cigarette smashed flat between his curled fingers.  
The second thug, a man John couldn't put a name to, unsheathed a rusted combat knife from his waist. Ricky was silent as he began pacing, dragging against his cigarette aggressively, burning long ash every hit. Finally, he stopped and stepped close to his captive, smoke drifting from his nostrils and the broken, chapped corners of his mouth. "I gotta teach you a lesson, McDonough. I can't let this slide. I got a goddamn business to run. I got people to serve, man, and you're cutting into that. You're cutting into my fucking livelihood you motherfucker."  
He looked to Charlie, the mass behind John, and nodded once, then strode from the room without another word. The other guard, twirling the filthy blade between his finger, grinned and approached John, just as Charlie's fingers slid over his shoulders, pulling him tight against the back of the chair. As the guard came closer, John relaxed, daring him to attack; "You're just another goddamn waste of resources."

John had been beaten up for worse by harder men, but the sensation of a knife passing through a flattened hand was unforgettable and undeniably intense. The guard, who Charlie referred to as Trigger, didn't mind taking his time, and pushed the blade slowly, excruciatingly, letting John memorize every wet crack and pop. John stayed silent, grinding his teeth and gnawing at his own mouth to keep the agony inside.  
As the flesh of his palm gave way, and the tapered blade spread and sliced his skin, John grunted. His good hand was tight in a fist, knuckles bloodless and white, and his knees began to shake. Trigger laughed lowly, holding the grip tight, before pulling it out just as slowly, John's blood flowing heavy against the splintering wooden armrest and down the back of his hand. John's shoulders were tensed against his neck as the knife was removed, only to have Charlie grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head up to see him.  
Charlie gave a half-smile and murmured, "G'night, Johnny Boy." There was a flash of pain in John's head before it went black. 

John's eyes shot open and he inhaled shakily, his body wracking with adrenaline.  He was in a warehouse, one he knew was in Goodneighbor, though he couldn't recognize the room. Beside him was Madeline Lewis, a ghoul who'd followed John with her husband and son, when they were forced from their home in Diamond City. They were one of the only families to make it, and John had made it his responsibility to watch over them.  
Her son, Arthur, a smoothskin boy she'd taken in, was just over fifteen, and immediately found himself in the streets huffing spliced Jet. John used every chem as often as he could, but he knew Ricky was pushing the kid to do more - take bigger hits, harder chems, and shorter highs. The result of the influence was always the same - the kid would end up ODing or going berserk and getting shot. John refused to let Madeline or her husband suffer further, and had smuggled Addictol to the couple, who begged their son to take it. Ricky had warned John before about protecting the ghouls after a confrontation erupted over John's disapproval of selling to children.  
Madeline was shooting John up with something purple, but he couldn't focus enough to identify it. His vision was blurred and his head and arm ached. As the syringe emptied, the ghoul stepped away and shook her head, smiling. "John, I appreciate the life you've given us and the risk you've put yourself through, but I can't let you endanger yourself for us anymore. This was too much."  
John tried to laugh for her, prove to her that he was fine, but the sound he made was choked and hoarse. His voice was tight and made his head thrum violently, forcing him to whisper. "Maddie, I love you guys like family - I'm not gonna let some entrepreneurial douchebag hurt you. Goodneighbor's a rough place, and I ain't leavin' you alone in it."  
She shook her head again, sighing. "We're going to move on, John. Max found a place we can live where there's land to farm and room for us."  
John grimaced as his arm spasmed, pain radiating through the limb, sending shocks of heat to his brain. "There's Raiders out there, Maddie. Max can't shoot and a Deathclaw could eat Arthur whole."  
"Don't argue, honey. We've already packed, but we're staying until we're sure you're okay." She patted his thigh but he jerked himself up to sit straight, flashes of color and waves of dizziness coloring his vision and churning his insides.  
"I can't let you go out there alone. At least let me-"  
Madeline set her small, gnarled hand against his chest and pressed him back down. "You will stay here, and that's the end of it."

-

Hancock touched a finger to his forehead as he remembered the injuries. They'd made two nasty slices along the center of his scalp and across his forehead, and he'd needed stitches just to keep his blood in. His hand had healed, but he hadn't been able to pop his knuckles since. It was impossible to see the scars anymore.  
He was in the Memory Den, reliving the worst thing he could think of, trying to scrub the guilt from his and Nora's night together away. He couldn't stop the nerves building up over what Nora would say or do upon remembering. She'd had enough to drink and huff, she'd actually put his fucking dick in her mouth. He had two guards at the entrance to town in case she tried to sneak out again - not that he wouldn't let her leave, but he'd get a fucking farewell.  
Doctor Amari released the pod and Hancock twisted out smoothly, meeting her nervous expression with a smile. "Y'alright, doc?"  
"Why did you want to see that? That was horrible! Who were those-"  
"Hey," he interrupted, touching her upper arm as a distant, comforting gesture, "don't you worry. I got my reasons. Thanks for the good work, as always. I might be back later."  
Before she could interrogate him, Hancock swept past her and through the entrance, swinging the door open to a dim street soaked in rain. He scanned the groups of drifters along the wall of the Rexton and the State House, checking for new or missing faces. He stopped as his gaze landed on Nora, seated with her elbows on her knees on a bench by the Third Rail, her hair fisted in one hand and her face pointed to a wall. She looked frustrated, though not panicked, and Hancock strode towards her, nodding to guards on his way, hoping she wouldn't catch him before he reached her. He felt like he was stalking a RadStag - the moment she laid eyes on him she could bolt from the square and escape the neighborhood before he could blink.  
She was motionless, and he approached slowly, turning on his heel and sliding beside her on the wet bench. Nora didn't jump when his shoulder brushed hers, nor did she speak. Her fingers tightened around her hair, and he took it as the only evidence of life she would give without provocation. He sighed softly, spreading his arms across the back of the bench. "Good morning, sunshine."  
She waited a long moment, fingers still. Finally, she released her hair and sat straight, not turning to him. "Hey. Sorry about getting so - I don't know - fucked up last night."  
He cracked his neck loudly. "Not a worry in the world, doll. I've had enough 'few-too-many's to understand." She smiled lightly, just enough to notice, and tilted her face to see him. He inhaled sharply and went on; "Hey, there's somethin' I've been meaning to talk to you about."  
Her face fell and she looked straight ahead at the Memory Den's blazing sign. "Yeah?"  
"Look, I, uh, I need to get back out there, you know? Bobbi's heist attempt just proves it - I'm too comfortable here. The people I used to run with are running against me."  
"So you wanna head out with me?" Her tone was aggravatingly neutral, but she relaxed and eyed him again.  
"Only if you wanna," he replied casually, hoping she would go for it, thought ready to wrap things up quickly if she declined.   
She nodded thoughtfully. "That'd be great. I could use some help out there. I need to get back to Sanctuary Hills and check on Codsworth and Dogmeat. Then," she exhaled, rubbing her palms on her jeans, "I've got to find my son."  
"We got this," he offered, nudging her playfully with the arm behind her. "I gotta let my people know. Then we can head out, alright?" He stood and left her, heading into the State House to prepare a quick speech and pack his shit. 

-

Fahrenheit arrived back as Hancock began speaking. He leaned against the railing of the balcony he'd given his first speech on, looking over his citizens one last time, memorizing their faces. When he caught the eye of the ginger woman, her eyes ablaze, he stood straighter. He couldn't let her - or anyone - stop him.   
He'd relived the memories to remind himself what life was really like. He'd grown accustomed to Jet and booze on tap, women on sidewalks waiting to be taken on a tour, and caps in heavy bags he couldn't bother counting. It disgusted him. He explained to the crowd, his family, this idea. Those in power should never be comfortable too long.  
He was met with quick opposition as he announced his plans. Mixed voices shouted at him, demanding answers and his continued presence. He let them down gently; "A good leader knows how to stay in touch with his people. I can't do that if I'm livin' the easy life. Besides, I need some practice out in the wild." He resigned back into his office, shutting the door behind his carefully, focusing on his departure. He shoved what chems he could grab and any provisions he knew they could spare into a satchel. He dropped his vibrant coat and tattered shirt onto a chair in a corner, flexing his stiff muscles. He'd gotten tense in the memory den, and his shoulder were tight against his neck.  
Hancock slid the leathers he'd worn into Goodneighbor a decade before over his head, and the worn material clung to his irradiated skin. Occasionally, he would find himself at odds with past decisions, especially when they resulted in flesh he was hesitant to bare. He wondered if the night before would come up between himself and Nora, but pushed the worries into the back of his mind. He couldn't be distracted when she trusted him to cover her back, and, he decided, that meant ignoring the tension and brushing off emotions. He was prepared for it -  it wasn't a goal he hadn't reached before. A door downstairs flung open and he heard Fahrenheit stomp up the stairs before tearing into the office. "What the fuck do you mean you're leaving?" she shouted. "I said it all in the goddamn speech, " he growled, tightening the satchel's straps and tossing it onto his back. "You know how it goes when I'm gone." "You don't fucking get it - we found the scouts we sent out to Pickman Gallery." 

Nora was leaning against the brick divider by Goodneighbor's entrance, tapping at the screen of her Pip-Boy. Listening close, he realized she was playing a Holotape. A deep, smooth voice played, saying something about missing her. When she noticed Hancock, she stopped the tape quickly, fumbling to eject it and shove it into her own satchel.  
"What was that?" he asked, mindful to keep his tone innocently curious.  
"Just a - a tape I found. It's - It's weird hearing recordings from the past," she answered lamely, switching her Pip-Boy to its map. She began tapping it again busily, obviously avoiding further questioning. Hancock accepted her evasiveness with a shrug and a lit cigarette.  
"So where we headed first, doll?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and Kudo'd! I hope for this to be the first piece I actually finish.  
> The romance is going to be a super slow burn. I want this to be as natural as possible without sacrificing time to petty encounters. I want to focus on understanding Hancock's character more, because, honestly, he's still an enigma to me. He's the most emotionally complicated character I've ever dealt with.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes violence and scary shit. Some of it can be triggering - this chapter is not necessary to the plot, and I'll include a summary of important info in the notes for the next chapter for anyone who doesn't want to read nasty shit.  
> Warnings: Binding, torture, and horrific conditions

It had started with a mention of the place, just some small talk from a guard while Nora prepped to head out towards Sanctuary. They'd stopped in Bunker Hill as planned to trade for Stimpaks and rations, but the blatant stares and occasional grumble left Hancock irritable. Nora could tell the trading post grated on him as he waited for her, his body tense and stance unwelcoming.  
The guard had mentioned something about zombies. Nora had tensed at the word, having heard it in Diamond City used to reference ghouls. She had shot a glance at Hancock, who remained stoic.  
"It's not too far from here - apparently these loonies wander around and ask you to come inside, but no one who's talked about it ever has. Fuckin' creeps, if you ask me," the guard rambled, shifting the weight of his shotgun in his hands.  
"And what do you want me to do about it?" Nora had snapped.  
"Hey, I'm just making conversation," he'd defended, turning away and mumbling. "Bitch." 

Despite her resistance to the conversation, Nora's interest had been piqued by the idea of freaks in the Commonwealth. With Raiders and mutants covering the landscape, she figured little could concern its inhabitants.  
They'd made their way to a ruined neighborhood littered with rusting cars and debris. The guard had mentioned the area, but hadn't specified a location. Nora listened for movement in the stillness, pausing in the sunlit street. Movement to her side jarred her nerves and she spun to stare down her scope at the entrance to a crumbling building.  
"Hello." A small woman peaked around the empty doorframe. She wore a filthy blue dress that hung from her thin shoulders, brown hair hung in matted clumps framing her face, and her eyes were sunken and dark.  
"Uh, hi. I'm Nora." She stuck her hand out to the woman, approaching calmly, though the frail woman shrunk back deeper into the ruined building.  
"I don't like the looks of this," Hancock whispered, flanking Nora closely.  
"Let's see what it's about, at least," she replied, following the woman through the threshold. Hancock grimaced, but stuck close behind her.  
The inside of the house smelled like raw Molerat and heavy motes of dust twisted in the air. The woman was already making her way down a flight of stairs, adjacent to a stairwell to the second floor, at the other end of the room, but her malnourished limbs were slow to move. She took each step gingerly, as though her bones would shatter with too heavy a step.  
Nora took a moment to check the front room. The space was taken up by dissolving cardboard boxes stuffed tight with discolored papers and, as Nora looked closer to see, meat. The cuts were seeping into the walls of the boxes, leaving them soaked in viscous, offensive juices that dripped thickly onto the peeling linoleum floor. She heard Hancock curse behind her, and she turned away from the mess, covering her mouth and nose as she felt nausea whorl inside her.  
She passed by her companion to the staircase, making her way down quickly to escape the sight. Hancock had to follow, though he checked his chamber for a fresh bullet before descending after her.  
Upon entering the basement, Nora found a circle of couches occupied by two thin, grim men and a woman whose head lay against the back of a couch as her jaw sat agape. Nora tensed, disturbed by the woman's gnarled frame - her knees shook against each other and her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her skin taut against her skeleton. One of the men stood,  placing himself between her and Nora.  
"Who are you?" His tone was flat, but Nora felt suspicious eyes on her and knew he wasn't pleased at her and Hancock's presence.  
"I'm Nora and this is Mayor Hancock. Um," she glanced around, mapping the room and noting a closed metal door in an unlit area, "What is this place?"  
The man spread his arms reflexively, though his voice remained neutral; "This is Doctor Bauer's hospital. We are his family. Are you a new patient?"  
Nora paused; behind her, Hancock grabbed her shoulder, interjecting; "No, we were just leaving - we got places to go. You know how it is." The man nodded, expression downtrodden, and he returned to his place on the couch beside the shaking woman.  
Nora shot a look over her shoulder, and Hancock responded lowly; "I'm all for explorin' and shit, but this is seriously fucked up. You can't just walk into a Deathclaw's nest and make yourself at home, doll."  
Nora turned to the small group; "I think we should head back-"  
A shot exploded in the tiny room and mangled screech sent Nora stumbling back into Hancock, who lurched forward to wrap an arm around her. She nearly spoke, but something hard hit the back of her head and she tumbled forward, Hancock's weight suddenly dead against her. He fell on top of her, and she realized a tall man with bloodshot eyes and deep wrinkles of age had been behind them. The man held a shotgun in his hands, and he grinned at Nora as she scrambled from beneath Hancock, finding him unconscious. She pushed the ghoul onto his back and placed a hand on his chest to check his breath.  
"Welcome to my home, friends!" The man's voice boomed and another scream erupted from the woman on the couch. Her eyes searched the room wildly, never settling, and she whimpered as he spoke. "I am Doctor Bauer! Let me fix your broken mind."  
Hands wrestled Nora back against the ground and a cloth slid over her face - she smelled something industrial, heavy glue and car parts - and she drifted off to blackness. 

Nora was woken by the urge to vomit, and she doubled over as she threw up suddenly. Someone was holding a bucket in front of her, expecting the reaction. As she lurched forward, Nora realized her arms were bound by her wrists. She choked as she heaved again, her lungs burning as her stomach emptied into the bucket, which, she had realized, had not been empty.  
"A common side effect of our procedure!" Doctor Bauer stood beside her chair, grinning madly, excitedly. The man in front of her backed away, slipping from her blurry sight.  
Nora sunk back against the chair, her face soaked in tears and sweat. Hancock wasn't with her, and her heart sped at the thought. "What the fuck is this?" she demanded, her throat parched.  
"I will fix you," the man replied, bending at the waist to come close to her face. Nora coughed and pulled back, away from the frantic eyes of the doctor.  
"Don't - I'm fine. What do you want? Where's Hancock?"  
The doctor tisked at her and turned away to rummage through a metal box on the ground, out of Nora's sight.  
"Oh, this is very bad - you show signs of aggression, anger, fear, and anxiety. My diagnosis: schizophrenia and Feminine Mental Breakdown Syndrome."  
Nora whimpered pathetically in disbelief, tearing at her bindings futily. "What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go," she shouted, squirming in the hard chair and kicking her legs at empty air.  
"My treatment is," he lifted something into the air proudly, and Nora took a moment to realize what he held, "lobotomy."  
Nora screamed, her voice scraping through her arid throat like gravel, and she twisted harder against the chair. She felt one cuff slacking, the sweat on her arms lubricating her skin against the plastic. The restraints were older than she was, she figured, as they were built into the chair for barbaric surgeries before her time.  
The doctor called out for a man named Eric, and suddenly two calloused, bony hands wrapped around Nora's jaw and forehead, tilting her head back to see the ceiling. Nora screamed again, sobs of fear and rage turning her shouts into pitiful whines. The hand on her jaw pressed her mouth shut tightly, stifling her cries.  
Polished metal glinted in her peripheral vision and Nora felt her limbs constrict against her sides as she began to shake. Eric tightened his hold and pinches the nerves along her jawline with solid knuckles. She squeezed her eyes shut and the doctor rested his hand over her right eye. She felt a pointed prong trace the bridge of her nose, down to her eye.  
It pushed her eyelid up and pressed past her eye, penetrating her head. Nora had never truly felt powerless, but she cowered against the skeletal hands and steel spike that burrowed through her flesh.  
Her hand exploded in pain as she ripped it from the binding, squeezing her joints to grind against each other through the tight opening. Something snapped. She grabbed at her thigh as her hand throbbed, forcing her heavy fingers to wrap around the hilt of her holstered blade.  
She stabbed upwards instantly, thrusting her knife into the doctor's abdomen as he turned to grab the hammer behind him. She twisted the blade deeper, churning his innards as he screamed, releasing the pick in her eye and grabbing her outstretched arm.  
She pulled back as the man behind her dropped her face and lifted a fist, targeting the pick to jam it through her skull. Nora leapt forward as his grip loosened and sliced at the man, cutting into his cheeks and chest wildly, before lifting the knife to sink it deep into his throat. Eric's mouth began seeping blood as she sawed at his neck downward, slitting to his collarbone in fear and rage. His throat gaped - a bloody maw beneath his chin - and he crumpled, taking her buried blade with him.  
Nora fought the urge to blink and doubled over, facing the floor. She hoped the spike would work its way out, but it sat solidly in her eye socket. She held her hand around it, not daring to touch it before she was sure she could slide it out.  
In one motion, she gripped the pick and yanked it out straight, shuddering as it left her body. She dropped it and fell to her knees against the concrete, touching her head to the ground. She was overwhelmed, and sobbed. 

After several minutes of comfortless heavy breaths, Nora finally stood, grabbed her blade from Eric's body, and found her pack against a wall. She rushed to find and stab herself with a Stimpak.  
Her eye stung and her head throbbed, but she forced herself to move further. She slumped against the metal door, feeling for the handle, her eyes shut as she envisioned the screeching lobotomites beyond the doorway. She was terrified to find Hancock. He had been knocked out by the doctor's gun, and she couldn't imagine what they'd done with him. She couldn't even say if the fired shot had hit him.  
She threw the door open, brandishing her combat knife and scanning the room. The couches were empty and the basement was silent. She crept forward towards the only other door which led to the stairwell. Her headache strengthened, pounding against the backs of her eyes.  
She checked behind her at the couches again before climbing the stairs, hesitant to discover where her companion was. The boxed meat soaking in the heat of midday hit her, the scent of rotting carcasses heavy on her senses.  
She heard a gunshot upstairs, followed by yelling. She recognized Hancock's voice, like silt as he shouted. Nora sprinted up the continued staircase, slamming her shoulders against the walls as she swayed and stumbled, willing herself to reach him. At the top of the stairs, she found herself behind one of the lobotomites as he faced Hancock, who refused to acknowledge her. Hancock's expression was solemn, and he held his arms up in surrender, though his glaring eyes hinted at hostility. Past the two men, she saw one of the other 'patients', her scrawny limbs embracing her body like a spider as her limp bodies lay flat against the far wall. In a couch to Nora's left sat the screeching woman, silent as her lips turned blue, jaw crooked and wide, a gunshot wound leaking down her forehead.  
The man before her was trembling, the pistol in his hands pointed at Hancock, who scowled as the man began hyperventilating. "Put the gun down or I'll fucking bury you," Hancock growled, hands turning to fists as he held them up.  
Nora gripped the knife tight and came close to the man, meeting Hancock's eye as she readied herself. The man shook his head and cried out incoherently. He shouted at the ghoul, "Doctor Bauer will cleanse us! He will cure you and you will be happy! You will be free!"  
"Like you, buddy?" Hancock shot, dropping his arms to his sides. Nora took the hint and wrapped an arm around the man's neck, knocking the gun from his unsteady hands with the hilt of her knife. She pulled his jaw upwards and he choked loudly, clawing at her armor piece as it pressed against his trachea. He gasped loudly before calming, and Hancock glided over to lower the dead weight to the ground.  
Once the unconscious man lay flat, Hancock embraced Nora suddenly, wrapping her tightly, for only a moment before stepping back to examine her. "What the fuck did they do to you? You look like hell, sunshine." His voice was smooth and he reached out to press his thumb to her eyebrow, lifting gently. Nora cringed and jolted backward from the touch, pain shooting through her eye socket and into her head.  
"Let's just go-" Hancock started to ask about the man on the ground, but she stopped him. "There's nothing we can do."  
Hancock hesitated to follow her down the stairs and out the door, but she refused to stop. As they reached the crumbling sidewalk, Hancock grabbed her shoulders, steadying her as her lights danced in her eyes. He turned her to face him and spoke gently, "You don't look so hot. We should go back to Bunker Hill."  
Nora glowered; "I'm fine - we'll talk about it once we've found a good place to stop. We need to get to Sanctuary."  
Hancock crossed his arms and stared her down. "I think it's more important to stay alive long enough to get there-"  
"And I almost got us fucking killed, right? I'm well fucking aware of that."  
Hancock stepped toward her aggressively, meeting her burning gaze; "I didn't fuckin' say that, did I? What's wrong with you? Are you on somethin'?"  
Rage shot through her, adrenaline like lightning, but it felt foreign - she realized she was facing down Hancock as though she would attack him, her fingers wrapped around her knife and feet apart in a hostile stance.  
She exhaled sharply, peeling her hand from her knife like duct tape, sweat drenching the leather-wrapped hilt. It clattered onto the street and Hancock relaxed, dropping his arms and taking her chin in one hand.  
At first, she shrunk back, but he tipped her head back and examined her eyes. She felt her heart drop as she realized he was only holding her to keep her shuddering body still. His black eyes scanned her before he sighed. "Looks like they doped you up with Psycho Jet, doll. Aggression, jitters, and you can't walk right - my favorite shitty trip. How do you feel?"  
He let her chin go, though Nora wished he'd press closer. She felt empty and jumpy, her limbs shaking. Fatigue began settling in her muscles and joints, and she felt faint. She remembered he'd asked her something, but she couldn't focus. Couldn't concentrate.  
Nora's eyes fluttered and she sunk suddenly. Hancock bolted forward, catching her shoulders as she fell to one knee before gagging. She pushed his hands away and stumbled sideways, close to the ground, before landing on her hands and retching onto the sidewalk. She doubted more could come, but her stomach tightened and her body heaved, pressing her to expel air and bitter saliva.  
Finally, her breath evened and she began calming. Her back radiated pain, aching from the day's abuse. Hancock stepped behind her and helped her up, keeping a hand on her shoulder as she steadied herself. "We're going back." 

-

Back within the walls of Bunker Hill, Kay pulled at Nora's eyelids and squeezed the joints of her swollen hand, ignoring Nora's grunts and curses. "Yup, you broke your thumb, but they put enough Med-X in you, I doubt you noticed. That would explain why your metacarpal was stickin' into your palm, nearly. Your eye seems alright, but expect a shiner. I'll wrap up your hand, but you can't use it for awhile unless you're plannin' on never using it again."  
"Of fuckin' course," Nora grumbled. Hancock watched from where he leaned against a wall, his expression unreadable. Kay ignored her and began wrapping thin foam around the small plank holding Nora's wrist and hand straight, followed by gauze and duct tape.  
Her arm felt heavy with the makeshift cast, but Nora thanked the doctor. She nodded at Hancock as she left the stand. He followed silently, though she knew he wanted to know what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like a good bad story.  
> I'm getting a new phone that's like 5.7" so maybe my chapters will be longer. It's so difficult to judge length on a 5" screen.   
> I want to condense them into like 6 or 8 nice, long chapters, but I don't want to lose anyone's comments. Why is life so difficult, right.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kind of short, unfortunately. I've been super busy at work for the past month and haven't had a moment to write until now!

The silence of the wasteland kept Nora turning on the worn mattress in Bunker Hill. She heard men chatting somewhere too far to hear, but the night was empty of cars churning through streets and televisions hollering through walls. It made her mind race with existential questions, worries over Shaun in the scarred man's arms. On the other side of the "hotel"  wall, Hancock was silent, and she wondered if he lay awake as well.  
Her arm throbbed, and Nora considered another shot of Med-X, but couldn't bring herself to move, hoping she'd fall asleep and feel nothing instead. She stared at the floorboards and the cheery lights strung around the settlement. A feeling of emptiness rose in her stomach; the ignorant eyes of the sweet dog she'd traveled with couldn't calm her, the strong arms of her husband couldn't hold her, and even the gravelly voice of her companion wouldn't remind her of the night they'd had together.  
It had to mean nothing. She had pushed herself onto a man whose list of partners was probably a dozen times the length of her own, and she had made herself a one-night stand. He had been so amiable to her, but she had rushed whatever they had. The memory of Hancock embracing her arose, but she struck it from her thoughts, telling herself he'd only done it because he hated the thought of innocent victims like herself, out of the goodness of his golden fucking heart. He has the mind of a goddamned revolutionary, and the soul of a fucking hero, helping every hungry man and crying woman.  
She wanted so badly to feel his lean chest against her back and hear his breath even as he fell asleep beside her. She felt disgusted at herself as she imagined his sleek features softening as he hit his high, and how he might roll his head on his shoulders to smile at her and say something cheeky. She had let herself become interested in a man almost immediately after losing her husband - though Nate had been gone during their marriage longer than they'd even dated - and the man she'd found was _Hancock_.

-

Hancock was kept up by the noise. Nora was tossing herself around her bed in the next room for the tenth time, and he wondered if it was his fault. She was angry at something or someone, and had been since the fucking near-lobotomy. While he would be just as pissed off about it, Nora's aggression had only escalated through the night - she'd ignored the men at the bar who offered her a drink and scowled at a kid who'd stared at her from afar. The traders in Bunker Hill seemed to know Nora, offering unreciprocated nods as they passed through the town to the motel. When Hancock had asked what was up, she only shrugged and stared at her splint until he moved on.  
Did she blame him for not watching their backs like he'd _said he fucking would_ , or was it the uninvited hold he'd put her in when she reappeared? He figured a girl like her would drop him as soon as he breathed the wrong way, but she hadn't said anything. It was her silence that just made him angrier. It made him want to grab her and demand she just tell him what was biting her ass before he went his own way. But he knew it'd be an empty threat. He wasn't going anywhere she wasn't.  
She turned again, making her mattress groan and the bed frame creak. Hancock finally rolled out of his own bed and strode out of the room, leaning against the outer wall and lighting a cigarette. He heard Nora sigh and soon she stood beside him, flicking a match to smoke her own. They stood in silence and let the smoke billow above their heads.  
"What's got you awake, doll?"  
Nora sighed and shrugged half heartedly. She looked exhausted; a heavy, purple bruise had formed around the eye she'd been stabbed in, adding to the darkening skin beneath her bloodshot eyes. "Just a long day."  
Hancock rolled his shoulders and took a thoughtful drag. "Never had a problem Jet couldn't fix."  
Nora finally smiled for him, though faintly, and Hancock pulled the chem from the pocket of his worn leather pants. He offered it to her first, and she immediately took a long, sweet drag. She shut her eyes and her expression softened as the inhalant hit her. She passed it back and he followed suit, though he kept his eyes on her as she relaxed against the building, eyes still closed. She finally spoke as he tossed the empty inhaler into his room.  
"It's just like it always was." Hancock raised his brow to keep her talking. "There's still money to worry about and people to get away from. I just-" she paused and scraped her boot against the floor "-feel as alone as I always did."  
"Hey, hey, I'm standing right here," he chuckled, nudging her arm.  
"Thank God," she sighed. "But I mean, I can never talk to my parents again, I can never spend a Sunday watching television with Shaun in my arms," she trailed off, her voice cracking.  
"C'mon, doll," he soothed, spreading his arms just enough to offer some consolation. She took it hesitantly, but wrapped her arms tightly around his torso with her cheek against his chest. He lay his arms around her shoulders distantly. She was upset about her family. Anyone would be, and it wasn't the time to pull her flush against him.  
Her hold loosened quickly and she stepped away, eyes pointed anywhere he wasn't. She thanked him shortly and turned back into her room where he heard her fall hard into her bed.  
Hancock grimaced hard and gripped the banister of the deck to glare at the horizon. She made me him feel so fucking stupid when she would give him the slightest affection only to pull back and skulk away. He wished she would just betray him and stab him in his sleep just to give him a clear understanding of how she felt for once. 

-

The sun was agonizing at midday. Hancock had pointed out several buildings Nora could find shade in, but she hadn't stopped. They'd made the four hour trek to Sanctuary without more than smoke breaks and the occasional hit, and Hancock could see she was beginning to faulter as they passed over the creaking bridge into the neighborhood.  
They hadn't spoken much and Hancock felt doubt setting in. He wasn't sure he'd made the right decision following a two hundred plus year old Vault Dweller, but he couldn't imagine knowing she was traveling alone. He considered sending MacCready out with her, but the image of the smoothskin bastard "watching her back" made him sick. But he couldn't stand how awkward it was being near her.  
Up the street, the two were greeted by a Minuteman Hancock recognized but couldn't place. Nora greeted him listlessly, but he ignored it and began rambling about working on the settlement. Hancock stood with his back to them and eyed the horizon for movement. The street was radiating with heat and Hancock missed the cool retreat of his office and the perpetually shaded neighborhood.  
Once the Minuteman, Preston, left, Nora moved to Hancock's side. "I don't think I'm ready to move out again," she grumbled, swaying when she shut her eyes.  
"I think the Commonwealth can wait a day, doll. You look like a Super Mutant stomped on you," he chuckled, holstering his gun and stretching his arms. 

-

Nora was hauling a mattress into a crumbling building when Hancock was able to reach the end of one of Mama Murphy's stories. He liked the old lady, especially when she took a deep hit and told him his future, but the sound of Nora grunting in the street pulled him away. She dropped the mattress on its side against her leg and huffed.  
"Need some help, there?" Hancock grabbed the ragged lining and pulled it beside him, grinning back as Nora as she glared. He dragged it down a hallway and tossed it against the wall by a broken bedframe. When she finally joined him, he was dusting his hands off and taking in the room.  
Nora stepped in gingerly, glancing around as though Raiders were hiding in the walls. "Everything is destroyed."  
"Been here before?"  
"It's my house. From before the bomb. I came in when I first woke up, but I was still so scared I didn't really look around," she replied, dragging a finger along the bristled edge of a frame on the wall. Hancock raised his brow and glanced at the bedframe. It had to have been where she'd slept with her husband. He caught blue in the corner of his eye and realized a crib sat in the next room, visible through the torn walls.  
He made a noise of discomfort and began to leave. "So, uh, you got another bed somewhere? Or that sofa maybe?"  
Nora sighed sharply as she crouched and went through the dresser. "I don't have anything else, but you can take the mattress. I don't think I can sleep in here."  
"I can move the mattress, sunshine," he argued, stressing the pet name almost sarcastically.  
Nora pressed her forehead against the dresser and Hancock crossed his arms, wondering if all women had been this difficult before the war. All the woman did was sigh and smoke anymore.  
"This is all still a little overwhelming. I'm sorry." She stood and faced him, shrugging. "It's all so crazy how this happened and it still doesn't feel completely real. It's like I'm watching a horrifying movie that doesn't end. I have to get used to knowing I'm never going to be who I was."  
Hancock stepped closer and lay a hand on her arm. Nora gave a small smile and winced as her bruises contorted. "Now, I ain't a hundred percent on it, but I know a bit how it is. My own brother doesn't even know who I am. I left Diamond City a smoothy, and I haven't seen him since. My parents ain't alive to know, my best friend growing up has probably died by now, and any girl I ever had back then is either gone, married, or wouldn't look twice at me. I'm not saying it's easy, but you'll get there. Just takes time." He knew it was lame, but Nora squeezed his extended arm and nodded.  
"Yeah. Well, I guess we could take turns sleeping."  
Hancock slapped her shoulder lightly, "Right - so get to sleep. Can't have you stumblin' over your own feet out there."  
He began to leave as Nora knelt onto the mattress, but she grabbed his wrist. "Hey, can you stay a little? I don't, um, I don't want to be alone in here."  
"I can move-"  
"Just hang out a little? I got some Jet that'll help me sleep," she offered, shouldering off her pack to rifle through it.  
"Anything you say, doll," he purred, landing beside her to lean against the wall. 

-

Hancock woke up sitting in the room. Nora was stretched across his legs, sleeping hard, and the sun had set. Without lighting, the house was pitch black, and its walls groaned as though it had felt the centuries of decay. Nora was breathing lightly with her lips parted, the purple and red skin around her eyes coloring her sweet features violently.  
He lay his head back against the wall, blinking slowly, the potentially long nap leaving him dazed. Nora's Pip-Boy glowed lightly and he reached to switch to the map to see the time. The wheel clicked and Nora stirred. It was ten at night.  
"Fuck," Nora muttered as she awoke, lying a hand on his thigh to raise herself. "What happened?"  
"You had Z, baby doll - Jet infused with old school anesthetics." She blinked hard and bit her lip. Her hand lingered on his leg and Hancock began to worry she would keep it there too long. "Why don't we go find somethin' to eat, huh?"  
Nora was staring at her hand and he felt her fingertips grip him. "Hancock," she started, but she took a long moment to continue, "are things alright between us?"  
"Seems alright from where I'm sitting. I ain't thinkin' of skippin' out on you, if that's what you're askin'."  
She seemed satisfied, and finally took her hand back to pull herself up. He followed, but told her he'd meet up with her. She had people to speak to, but he needed a second.  
When she was gone, he sat back down, stretching his legs forward and unzipping his leathers quietly. Her fucking hand six inches from his dick had just stirred shit up again, but she wasn't fucked up this time. Hancock shut his eyes.  
_She would be on her elbows and knees, doing something, but Hancock wouldn't notice what. He'd just watch her ass sway and spread beneath the thin cloth of her pants. Her back would arch and she'd lower her head to get closer to the floor._  
_He'd wrap his hands around her hips and pull her back until her ass rubbed against his cock. She'd laugh and wiggle her hips to feel him get harder for her, and he'd squeeze her hips tight like a warning. He'd pull her clothing out of the way just enough to slip his fingers into her - she wouldn't even need foreplay. She'd be wet for him the moment he touched her. She'd gasp and twist her waist in pleasure when he'd crook his fingers and pound his hand to the knuckles inside her._  
_Before she could finish, he'd slide himself inside her, her insides tight and burning, and she'd have to hold herself up and throw her head back to moan and whine and beg for him to fuck her._  
_He'd wrap his fingers around her taut throat and guide her back, hold her up with her arms at her sides, and slide his other hand up her torso to squeeze her breast. He'd pinch and palm her nipples and tighten his grip on her throat until she'd start bouncing on his cock, desperate for him, trying to balance herself just for him._  
_He'd readjust himself and move his hands to her waist, grip hard, and pound her tight, aching body until she crumpled to the floor, contracting and groaning, so lost in pleasure she wouldn't even be able to hold herself up. He'd bend over her, thrusting sharply, and tell her she was his, every bit of her. She would bite her lip and look up at him with cloudy blue eyes, and beg him to fuck her raw._  
Hancock sighed in relief. He'd never been as quick as he was thinking about her. She was a fucking masterpiece. Her ass begged to be groped roughly and her tits were always pressed so tightly against whatever she wore, it only seemed humane to release them. But he wouldn't. Powerful women got him going, but it was their power that kept him at a distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doo


	14. Chapter 14

The Red Rocket was still holding together fairly well. Hancock had taken to patrolling the perimeter while Nora scavved the innards of the gas station. South of them, Concord was silent and its skeletons jutted into the clear sky. Upon clearing what she could and shoving the junk into her pack, Nora found Hancock sitting against the wall of the small office,  a smoldering cigarette in one hand, his eyes shut.   
After placing several mines at either entrance, she dropped her back just inside the doorway and left to see what lay just outside the station. The land declined sharply just past two rusted phone booths and a gnarled road barrier, dropping sharply at a point near the bottom of the hill. It looked like an entrance.   
She held her pistol tightly at her side and approached the cave. No sounds of movement came, and she entered, clicking her Pip-Boy's light on to illuminate graffiti and rusted tunnel support. Her boots compacted the wet dirt beneath her, filling the cave with her noise. At the end, just under the Red Rocket, the tunnel opened into a small cove filled with barrels of irradiated waste and Pre-war trash. She paused, scanning the room for valuables.   
She heard wood splinter behind her, just to the side of the tunnel's entrance. As she began to turn, a heavy hand slid around her waist too intimately, gliding over her abdomen to wrap her hips in a tight hold. Another hand grabbed her splinted wrist holding her pistol, and forced her arm to her side.   
Nora slammed her head backward, attempting to headbutt the assailant. The back of her head hit a solid shoulder and she recognized the tough rebound of leather. Hancock wore the metal armor she had bought from Carla.   
She panicked and kicked a leg back, looping it behind the attacker's knee in an attempt to loosen his footing and take him down with her. It was the only chance she could see to at least regain control of her weapon.  The person stood rigid against her strength, unmoved by efforts. They pressed against her back and Nora realized it was a man. He inhaled the scent of her hair and Nora began thrashing to escape.   
"Get the fuck away from me you freak!" she screamed, kicking the heavy soles of her boots against his armored shins.   
"Just relax gorgeous," replied a ghoul's voice like a worn needle on a new record. "You're gonna be a nice addition to this shit hole."   
Nora pressed hard to wretch her arm from his grasp, but was stopped by a sudden rush of pain and a snap. She gasped sharply and her hand went numb, dropping the weapon.   
"Yeah, that's a good girl," the man cooed, sending horrified shivers through Nora's body. He kicked the pistol off to the far side of the room and she felt him begin lowering her. He pushed her to the ground onto her front, holding fast to her arms, and sat himself on her back with his knees pinning her upper arms to the ground. His weight left her gasping for breath as she felt her ribs contorting against the hard earth.   
His hand ran across her back and up her neck, then knotted into her hair to yank her head up. She bent her back painfully to kick at his head, but he leaned forward to avoid it. He clicked his tongue and pushed her head back down, against the ground, rubbing her face in the dirt. "I'll make you right. Make sure you don't say nothin' if you ain't got a tongue, right? Pro'ly gonna have to do somethin' about these pretty feets and hands. Can't let you slip away, huh?"   
Nora tried to reply, to scream out and hope Hancock could hear her through the ground, but the ghoul mashed her mouth against the dirt. She could taste mud and radiation tingled in her gums. A hand slid between her legs and over the backs of her thighs. Far off, she heard Hancock's voice. She shouted with her lips shut tight, her voice scorching her throat. Her companion's voice came close to the entrance and suddenly the weight of the man disappeared.   
She lifted herself immediately, yelling for Hancock to find her. She stumbled back against the wall and searched the room wildly for the man. When Hancock entered he was glaring.   
"What the fuck are you doing, Nora?" he shot. He crossed his arms and watched her find her pistol in the pile of pallets against a wall. "I fall asleep for a fucking minute and you ditch me?"   
"I didn't ditch you," she defended, holstering the gun with her left hand and grimacing.   
"Did you fuck up your arm again?" he demanded.   
"I just figured I would check out the perimeter and some guy fucking attacked me but he's gone," she explained. She growled in frustration at Hancock's understandably skeptical expression.   
"Look, doll, I like you a lot, but I don't think I can handle having to keep you in sight every minute or else you get yourself attacked. I want to help you, but I don't need this kinda stress."  
Nora was at a loss. He was right, but she could never admit it - doing so would be inviting him to leave, and he was the only person she'd been happy around since waking up. She felt a tightness in her chest and she grit her teeth.   
"Y'ain't gonna say anything? Fine, I'll see you in Goodneighbor," he muttered and began to leave.   
" _ **John**_ , don't you dare fucking walk out on me," she argued, her voice echoing too loud against the walls of the small cove.   
"That an order?" he snarled, meeting her eyes with an enraged intensity.   
"No," she ceded quickly, softer, "just - please. I can't do this alone. I'm - fuck, I'm sorry." She was stuttering, angry that he would try to leave and terrified of that anger sending him away.   
He considered her for a moment before nodding and leaving silently. She followed quickly behind, checking over her shoulder for glinting eyes. They made their way back to the small office, and Hancock began shifting through her pack. She stood awkwardly by the desk, running her fingers along the sharp-edged buttons of her Pip-Boy.   
"I gotta check back on my town soon. Fahrenheit took a scouting team to Pickman-"  
"I remember," she interrupted quietly.   
"and I need to find out what happened. I might need to go myself."  
" _We_ could go," she corrected him, indignant.   
"Yeah," he grumbled distantly. 

 

They set out for Diamond City once Nora found enough duct tape to reinforce her cast. She found that the wooden splint had snapped and the splinters scraped across her skin. She avoided letting Hancock know the good news in case being reminded of the incident revived his anger. He had been mostly silent during their journey, and had even stopped shouting demoralizing threats in favor of just grunting as he shot. There had been some scattered ferals and a raider camp of five, but Hancock's silence seemed to motivate his accuracy and Nora hardly needed to shoot.   
At the outskirts of Diamond City, as dusk began to fall, Hancock stopped Nora with a hand on her arm. "You know I can't go in there right?"   
She'd forgotten. She had planned on spending the night at the Dug Out, but hadn't even considered the anti-ghoul laws. Her mind raced for an answer but Hancock smiled reassuringly. "Do what you gotta and I'll wait around here."  
"So I can get assaulted again?" she scoffed. Hancock's smile dropped instantly. "I'll see if Valentine can help me and we'll head to Goodneighbor."   
"You sure you're ready to keep going? Goodneighbor is another hour out and you're looking pretty rough, sunshine." Any humor had disappeared with his smile and his voice was left flat.   
"Can't make you sleep in the rubble," she snapped. She could feel Hancock tense beside her. She was pushing him near the edge and knew the wrong words could have him back in Goodneighbor without her before the last of the stars appeared above them; yet her voice remained sharp. "Sorry. I'll be back soon."  
"I'll be here," he replied, though she felt a pang of doubt. 

-

Hancock was getting tired of it. He didn't know if she'd really been attacked in that tunnel, and even then, she hadn't told him anything else. Her splint was broken, but she could have tripped and was covering her embarrassment. That idea pissed him off more than anything. Where did the guy go, then?   
Nora was a weird girl. She had been so chill early on, but he'd seen the stress building on her face. She'd been awake near a month and the days hadn't done her justice. The dirt was thick in her hair and hands and callouses had started forming on her fingers and palms. Nothing could really get much worse for her. So he had decided how to handle her.   
The night began to creep across the sky and stars twinkled above him. The streets were silent save for the occasional boots of a guard on the other side of the barrier. They hadn't seen him against the building he leaned against, chain smoking until his throat began to ache and his mouth tasted of stale smoke.   
She'd been gone about an hour before finally reappearing with a downtrodden expression that only made Hancock more tense. Before he could ask, she began fidgeting with her Pip-Boy map and explained, "Valentine has been missing for awhile but his secretary told me where he might have gone. Let's get to Goodneighbor and I'll plot out tomorrow."   
"Anything you say, baby doll," Hancock purred, sliding his arm across her shoulders. He was met with rigid shoulders and a tight expression on Nora's face. He flattened his hand over the curve of her shoulder and squeezed lightly, pressing her to his side. "Can we talk on the way there?"   
"Of course!" she answered quickly, an unnatural perkiness signaling Hancock that he was right.   
They began walking, his arm still wrapped around her. "Look, not many people make it this long with me. I'm impressed. And I think you and I see eye to eye with what matters, ya know? I saw how you treated those refugees in Sanctuary and how you talked to my own citizens, and I can tell that _you_ \- you're somethin' special. Someone I can't afford to lose. That's why I got so messed up when you got hurt in that cave." Nora's pace was slowing and he knew she was anticipating something. "You mean a lot to me, doll."  
She wasn't quick to reply; "You're everything I have right now, John." She rarely called him by his first name, if any name.   
"That's how I'm feelin'. I'm lucky to have you as a friend." He waited to see where she would take it.   
"Have you," she paused and he noticed her biting her lip, "have you ever thought of us as more than friends?"   
He chuckled, relieved. "Was it that obvious? But wakin' up to this mug every mornin'? I couldn't wish that on anyone I cared for."  
She pushed him away, and, for a moment, he wondered if she somehow took offense. Her eyes were fiery, however - it's how she looked when she negotiated and strongarmed in arguments. "I may fuck up sometimes, but I've never been more sure of anything. I'm so sorry for how I've been acting." Her eyes softened and she lurched forward to wrap her arms around his torso tightly, smashing her cheek against his chest. "I thought we were just a one night thing to you. If I'd realized you felt the same I never-"   
He interrupted her softly with a hand on her hair and his arm around her back. "Chill, love. We're good. Let's get to Goodneighbor and I'll show you my favorite way to relax."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suhmut

His skin was searing hot against hers. Hard hands slid over her hips and wrapped around the curve of her waist, pulling her against him. She had lost her shirt on the way into Hancock's barren office, and he had seemed to lose control once the door clicked shut.   
He had her against the door, his black eyes trained on her, watching her bite her lip and smile shyly. He had that smirk she loved as his fingers wrapped around her breasts, still hidden in her Old World bra. He squeezed tightly, nearly too hard, and Nora felt blood rush to her hardening nipples. She ground against him and watched his eyes come alive with adrenaline and lust.   
"I've missed you," he growled, squeezing her tits again before sliding his hands to her back. Her bra fell away and he was quick to grope her again, this time sliding her nipples between his fingers as he massaged her breasts. She ground her lower lip between her teeth, warmth rushing through her to make her throb.   
"Good," she replied, cheeky from the sight of his hard-on through his leathers. He chuckled lowly before wrapping his arms around her to carry her to the counter across the room. He sat her down roughly, pushing her back against the wall as her legs dangled. He pinched a nipple and took the other into his mouth, flicking his tongue to earn a soft moan.   
His free hand slid up her thigh, between her legs, where he rubbed her aching clit through her jeans. The roughness was just enough to keep her from begging, but she still found herself breathing heavy. His fingers moved across the dip of her pussy and back up, where he swirled the fabric and made her jaw clench.   
"Like that, baby?" he purred confidently. She felt the overwhelming urge to please him, even if she needed to beg naked in the street. He was her man now, and every good deed he had committed and sweet word he had uttered needed to be repaid to him through her. She wanted to give him the pleasure she knew he needed, knew he deserved, and she would writhe beneath or above him until he couldn't spare another drop. So she nodded for him, affirming his tight circles that made her seep.   
He removed his tricorn hat and began to lift his leather over his head, and Nora took the chance to slide her jeans off, exposing herself entirely. He grinned and grabbed her ass, sliding her closer, her thighs bitten against the edge of the counter. She grabbed his hat from his hand; "Keep the hat. I want to be fucked by the Mayor." He laughed again, shortly, replacing the hat only to grab her wrists and pin them at her sides.   
"Anything you say, dollface," he murmured lowly, hovering his face inches from hers. Nora pressed her lips against his and he immediately responded, pushing against her forcefully. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and pulled lightly, his eyes playful yet dark. He held her wrists behind her with one hand as he teased her pussy with the other. His fingers played delicately against the flesh, never hard enough to satisfy her. He was still grinning, confidence and playfulness on his face.   
Nora whined and tried to thrust her hips, aching for any part of him. He cocked his head and, for a moment, his expression turned devious. Before she could react, he thrust two fingers into her, crooking them and churning her insides so fucking wonderfully, she worried she would climax by his hand alone. Her jaw fell open and her eyes rolled upward. He slammed his knuckles against her pelvis, delving deeper into her where he punished every sensitive spot that made her moan high and loud. "That's my girl," he purred, nearly lifting Nora from the counter as he thrust his hand and rubbed his palm against her clit with every motion.   
A strangled moan tightened her throat and she felt a sensory explosion radiate through her. Nora lifted her chin and fell back, the crown of her head slamming against the wall. She had finished against his fingers, her insides tightening around him as he removed them. "Done already, gorgeous?" he teased, undoing his lower leather to pull his hard cock out.   
Nora immediately escaped her bliss at the sight, and lurched forward to wrap her fingers around him. He jolted and a light groan fell from him as she began pumping. She pressed her thumb against the underside, flicking just beneath the head. His cock throbbed with every stroke, and soon she was forced away by his wet hand, determination in his eyes.   
He stood between her legs and pulled her forward until her toes touched the couch behind him and the counter's edge was the only thing beneath her.   
Hancock rubbed the weeping head of his dick against her wetness. He held her ass in each hand and thrust, filling her so suddenly and totally that Nora's head fell forward and her eyes screwed shut. A loud, long groan escaped her. She straightened and grabbed his shoulders to wrench his head to her bouncing tits. He thrust hard and evenly, sucking her nipples red.   
She felt the head of his cock slam against her insides, deeper than she had thought possible, a mixture of pleasure and pain clouding her eyes. He was pounding against the deepest part of her, sliding out only enough to afford him the room to fuck her harder. He placed his hands on the counter at her sides and lifted his face to hers, staring her down as he fucked her. She moaned loud for him, watching as his eyes shut slowly as his cock twitched inside her. Hancock groaned deeply and pressed his lips against hers again, though soft with relief. He felt somehow bigger, and soon Nora felt her head go light as a second orgasm shot through her. She was tightening, choking every drop of cum from him and he slowed.   
He stayed within her wet heat for a moment before addressing the fresh stains on his leathers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short, I know. I'm sorry. I've been ridiculously busy but I have plans. I am going to write them out if it kills me.


	16. The Pickman Gallery

Goodneighbor was a seething monster in the middle of downtown Boston, clinging to life through the trials of violence and pleasure. Its gnarled street bled chems and booze bled through its gutters as women winked at starving men, harpies determined to take their money for love. Its mayor was watching it, smiling down it from the balcony of his office while _his woman_ slept inside. He loved his town, his beautiful abomination, as it bloated with stolen caps and primal satisfaction. His were people of cunning and silver tongues, like himself. It was what humanity had always wanted to be - self-indulgent, self-assured, and and self-reliant. His people could raise a knife to their own brother if he tried to keep them from their satisfaction.   
They were heading to Pickman as soon as Nora woke up. Daytime was their best bet, according to Fahrenheit, who noticed the Raiders attempted to break in every night. No one had even fucking made it inside yet, and that fact pissed him off nearly as badly as the one man dead from scouting. For fuck's sake, he was losing guards to a man no one had even seen yet.   
He heard Nora moving in his office, and she was standing by him in a moment, hair rustled and makeup flawless. He squinted as though he was hallucinating; "How do you always look so perfect?" He grinned at his own charm.   
She smiled lazily and laid her elbows on the balcony railing. "It's tattooed on. It was a trend when I went to college and my friend knew a girl in the business."   
"Holy shit," he laughed. "Why'd you stop wearin' the warpaint?"   
She grimaced playfully, and shook her head. "A girl alone has to look tough. I don't need to anymore."  
"Yeah-" Hancock stretched an arm across her shoulders casually "-you got me to protect you now, doll."   
She laughed and shrugged him away, returning to the office. He watched her hips sway, her flesh pressed tight against the fabric of her jeans. She was searching for something, crouching to rifle through her pack, her ass hovering above the ground. He wanted to slide his hands beneath her and pull her backwards onto him, all of her weight pressed against him.   
"Are you going to help me or keep jerking off?" she teased flatly.   
He laughed; "Just admirin' the view." 

-

The Pickman Gallery was unnaturally quiet and Hancock was restless at Nora's side. He shrugged his shoulders and arched his back to crack out the stress he was building. Nora crouched at the lip of a nearby rooftop, Hancock watching her back, as she scoped the Gallery. Mines were set erratically around the entrance, leading her to believe the Raiders had set them.   
"There aren't any bodies anywhere," she mumbled. Hancock sniffed thoughtfully.   
"You think Fahrenheit was lyin'?"   
Nora was quiet as she stared hard at the blackened windows of the building, hoping for movement. When nothing came, she passed her gun to Hancock for a view and began preparing their small assault. Fahrenheit's recon had brought them little help. All Nora knew to be ready for was Raiders, but the Gallery seemed to radiate a feeling of unease. Despite Fahrenheit's story, there were no bodies, limbs, or frag from explosives. It looked as though no one had even opened the front door yet. Hancock nodded to Nora as he passed her sniper back, ready to descend the building and move in.   
Once they hit ground level, Hancock strode through the minefield, deactivating the chirping mines and tossing them back to Nora to shove into her pack. As they came to the front door, Nora felt sick. Her blood rushed from her limbs as though ice flowed through her. Hancock pushed her to the side, his expression stern, and motioned for Nora to hold her shotgun to her chest. He counted down silently with his fingers and shattered the door's lock with a heavy kick to the rusted doorknob. It clattered loudly to the ground and Nora swung around the door jamb, weapon forward, eyes sweeping the building's innards.   
It was silent. Nora knew the feeling that crept up her spine and chilled her flesh; it was sensing intangible horror. It was flicking her lightswitch off as a child and running to her bed - but she was stuck. She couldn't move to hide beneath the covers. She felt It watching her and her legs were concrete.   
Hancock moved behind her and slid a hand onto her waist. Nora didn't respond; she was staring into a room to her left. Hancock slid past her to see, but quickly turned away to grab Nora and obscure her view. "Y'alright, doll? This ain't anything you haven't seen before, right?"   
Nora nodded. They were watching her. Their skin dripped. Their mouths screamed for her. Their carcasses clung to each other in obscene horror.   
Bodies were piled in the room. Heads were staked and their jaws were left open to call at them, their eyes glued toward the exit they nearly made. Nora couldn't drag her eyes away from the skin. It covered the windows along the side of the room, draped along the shattered glass, held to the ceiling by nails and knives.  Pure flesh sewn together, sliced so carefully from the bodies bursting in decay and those more recent with their blood still pooling between floorboards.   
" _Nora_ ," Hancock urged, holding her shoulders to force her to see him. "Chill out. There's nothing we can do but find the guy who did this, a'right?"   
Nora shut her eyes hard and clenched her jaw. "Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. Sorry."  
He pulled her toward the stairwell ahead of them, shotgun in hand. On the second floor they only found more mutilation, and Hancock had Nora stand guard at the stairwell as he searched the rooms.   
A raider with trackmark scars had already turned pale blue, his eyes yellow and soft as pus, scars purple and thick on his otherwise untouched skin. It was the raider's mouth the assailant had taken to. The cheeks were slit to the jaw, leaving a gaping maw of forming mold and shriveled, bloodless flesh. The teeth were gone, the gums hanging in tattered threads, and the tongue had been forced back into the man's throat, likely causing his ultimate death. Above the body, on the wall, was written _Speak No Evil_.   
In the next room a man had been amputated, his limbs without fingers or toes lying at the foot of the fluid-stained bed he was tied to. _Lazy Sunday_.   
Hancock returned to find Nora halfway up the second stairwell. "I heard something," she mouthed at him, cocking her gun as she crept up a step. Hancock placed a hand on her shoulder defensively as he moved past her to take lead. He gripped his combat knife tightly in his fist as they moved.   
On the third floor, the air was thick with the heat of midday and the stench of rot. Hancock heard a metallic clink in the room farthest from them, and the shadow of a limb passed over the doorway. Whoever it was was on the opposite side of the room from where they could enter, leaving the two of them as targets should they enter.   
Hancock slipped into the nearest room that would lead to the noise. Pre-War sheets decorated in fading floral and foreign swirls covered the only bed in the room, surrounded by, what he assumed to be, the remaining decapitated heads of the bodies on the first floor. Their opened necks gripped the stained floor, horrified expressions staring empty at the made bed. Hancock motioned at Nora, who stood in the hallway with her weapon trained on the far door, not to follow him and she grimaced. She was likely unhappy feeling as though Hancock needed to protect her, but the image of her sweet skin even touched by the fuck who tore humans apart made him sick.   
Hancock glided through the room, past destroyed bookcases and chairs, to finally see the source of the noise.   
From their armor, they appeared to be a raider - a woman, crouched over something in the corner, her bloodied arms working. She dropped her shoulders suddenly and fell backward to sit across from whatever she was doing. Her hand stayed on it, arm outstretched as she began sobbing, screaming curses and gibberish. It was another raider she had been trying to fix. His face was in pieces, carved carefully into jigsaw pieces, one slice of flesh missing from the upper half of his head. She was trying to hold a thick, mucus-lined chunk to his jaw, heaving as she tried to sew it on with shaking fingers. The thread ripped cleanly through the skin and the eyes of the male raider had been ripped from his skull, trailing vines of muscle over the mutilated cheeks.   
Hancock was standing behind the woman before she could notice him. He pressed the barrel of his weapon to her head. "Get out of here while I'll still let you," he growled, hoping to send the hysterical woman away.   
She wrenched herself around, facing him on her knees. Her face was tight as she sobbed, her body shaking as she bared her teeth, screaming at him. "Fucking do it you shit! You'll die, too." She slammed a hand to the ground and shoved a frag mine into his face. Hancock shoved her away with his gun, stumbling backward as she gripped the mine to her chest, screeching unintelligably. He heard her switch the mine and it burst, the explosion ripping through her in smoking meat and blood-soaked frag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!


	17. Chapter 17

Hancock was on the ground, covered in the remains of something thick and ruddy. Nora fell to her knees beside him and stabbed a Stimpack into his thigh, pressing hard to pass through the thick leather. He was awake, cringing in pain, black eyes watching her check his limbs for injury. She pressed her way up his torso, softly prodding for frag and burns, finally collapsing in relief to lie her head on his chest. Hancock patted her back, wincing.  
"I gotta take a sec, doll," he muttered hoarsely. Nora pulled her bag around to her front and searched for one of her last purified waters. He pushed her hand back when she offered it. "The good shit's meant for you. Rads do me just fine."   
The corners of her eyes were creased in worry. She wasn't saying anything, and Hancock felt like something wasn't right in the way her eyes were darting. The Stimpak was finally seeming to work; his whole body was buzzing warmly by the time the dirty water Nora handed him burned his throat like fireworks. He didn't like the idea of eating dirt and whatever shit floated into the hole the water was scooped from, but it wouldn't do them any good if Nora started puking from radiation sickness.   
Hancock pulled himself up, head swimming. Debris from the woman's body clung to his armor in thick clumps. Her lower half was still partially intact mere yards away. "Maybe you should clear outta here. I'll grab whatever shit's layin around, then we'll blow this shithole up."   
Fahrenheit's plan - placing mines at every supporting wall and beam - had to work, now. Originally, they were just looking to clear the Raiders, then Pickman was the target. However, as he had come to realize, there was no easy kill here. The entire place was drenched in human distress and agony. The world he would build had no place for vermin in its gutters.   
"Last time we separated I-"  
Hancock stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She was silent, blue eyes wide and red. "I won't even let 'em scope you, baby doll," he assured her, squeezing her shoulder. 

Once outside, his pack stuffed with non-perishables and scrap, the two stood around the corner from the Gallery entrance. Hancock handed a grenade off to Nora to raze the building. She pulled the pin, tossing the frag grenade through the open door, where it bounced loudly against an active mine. The explosion shook the ground, suddenly sending flurries of splintered wood and debris rocketing through the alleyways surrounding the building.   
As the dust settled, the building stood as no more than a skeleton in shambles. No voices came from the rubble; no lost or injured souls were left behind, thankfully. However, it worried him that they never saw Pickman himself. 

Hancock clocked the sun's angle at about four in the evening. They'd need to find their way back to Goodneighbor before dark, and Nora hadn't eaten since they'd left. She refused to break open the Old World packages of room-temperature chemical meats or the crunchy shards of uncooked pasta, claiming they were for, "emergencies only."   
Nora's only strategy for scampering through Downtown was sprinting and hiding, and it only begged for failure. He insisted her tactics would only get her caught by a stray, lucky bullet or she'd find herself eyes-deep in errant Super Mutants or Raiders. She only shrugged her shoulders and kept walking. "All I mean is we gotta think of somethin more, ya know, _fool-proof_."   
"I can't afford enough ammo to mow down the entire trail back to Goodneighbor," she grumbled, her shotgun dangling, forsaken between her fingertips. She seemed run-down from the constant moving. Her eyes only got darker and her body began to slump.   
"You forget who you're runnin' with, beauty," he grinned. "We get home, I got resources for days. We'll guerilla ourselves through this time, but then we talk about being the first to shoot."   
Nora rolled her eyes teasingly. "Of course, Mr. Mayor." He chuckled and bit his tongue. He loved when she said that. _Mr. Mayor, your desk is so huge!_   
They crouched down against a fissured building in the shade of the evening. Nora peeked around the corner and shot back quickly. "Four ghouls in combat armor at twelve, one, and two."   
"Let me handle this," Hancock said, setting his tricorn hat over her hair. Most people didn't recognize his without it; he could be any stupid fucker.  
Hancock turned the corner quick, calling out to the men, "'Ay, you guys need some Psycho?"   
One of the ghouls pulled a rifle on him, staring down the scope as another ghoul stepped forward. "Hey, buddy -  we ain't lookin' to buy. You heard about any Vaulties 'round here?"   
Hancock narrowed his eyes, considering the weapons being loaded and trained on him. "Vaulties? Nah. Why ya lookin'?"   
The leader stepped closer, still several yards away. "Some smoothskin bird attacked my buddy, here, in his own camp. We don't take too well to smoothskins pushin' our kind around. I'm sure you understand."   
"'Course, man," Hancock replied, a one-sided smile radiating compatriotism. Behind him, Nora stomped forward, shotgun raised near her face as she aimed at one of the ghouls.   
"You're the dirty motherfucker that attacked me," she accused loudly. "I'll blow your fucking brains out!"   
Hancock reactively grabbed her arm, forcing it downward as weapons clicked in readiness from the other side. "C'mon, maybe we can reach an agreement," Hancock insisted, though he brushed his arm against his side to check for any last frag grenades.   
Nora rushed forward without warning, kicking up ancient dust behind her. She met one of the ghoul's temple with the butt of her gun, slamming him down into the street. Before she could spin back around, the leader of the group was behind her, his hand already grasping at the neckline of her shirt. He pulled her backwards, sending her off-balance, and she fell to her ass on the asphalt. Hancock approached one of the men from behind as the ghoul cursed at Nora, shoved the muzzle of his shotgun against the ridged spine of the man, and blasted a sickening crater into his back. The ghoul collapsed and Hancock was quick to turn to the last of the followers with his second round blazing through the open town square.   
The leader, last of his crew, growled and kicked Nora's chest to flatten her. He began approaching Hancock with his arms tense, ready to swing. Nora reached out, grabbing the ghoul's ankle, sending him falling forward. The man connected hard with the asphalt, barrel chest thudding densely. Hancock raised his combat knife sullenly, colliding its blade with the ghoul's skull. It cracked, collapsed, and a whine of passing hissed from the former man's lips.   
They were quiet for a moment, heaving in the aftermath. Hancock was confused, livid at Nora's actions. "You know for a fact that was the guy who attacked you?" he questioned, staring her down.   
"Of course I know," he defended indignantly. "What, are you defending them?"   
"No, I'm not _fucking_ defending them," he spat back. "But I got a problem with you rushing into shit when we're outnumbered. You're not a fuckin god. You're gonna get killed."   
Nora scowled. "We did fine, right? So who fucking cares?"  
She was evading the argument. Her eyes were downcast and she was only halfway upright. She sat on the street facing away from her companion, glaring at the dead eyes of the ghoul she'd taken down. Blood trickled from his gaping mouth. He'd probably gotten his brain shaken in his skull.   
Hancock stepped forward, demanding with his movement that she face him. " _I_ took care of 'em. You act like that when I ain't around and-"   
"Is there a time you won't be around?" she interrupted gently. Her voice was silk wrapped over thorns of guilt. Hancock grimaced.   
"I ain't sayin' that and you know it. You're everything to me, doll. I don't wanna see you runnin' into crowds of people like you're some apocalyptic Grognak."  
Nora stared at the ground for a moment before pulling herself up. She rifled through the pockets of the dead ghouls before returning to Hancock's side. "Let's just get back," she muttered, stuffing the last of the caps and ammo into her pockets.   
Hancock sighed, tilting his head thoughtfully. Nora began to leave without him, her steps quick and edged. He resolved to fix the situation once they were safely in his town. She couldn't shoot his head off there, too, so he caught up and followed behind the woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a difficult few weeks balancing work bullshit and school, but I'm feeling revitalized with the release of Survival mode! So, anything from here on will have more of a Survival-influenced tone. Thanks so much to everyone who's read, Kudo'd and commented. YOU ARE MY ROCK(S).


End file.
